Jump to content

Search the Community

Showing results for tags 'flexing'.

  • Search By Tags

    Type tags separated by commas.
  • Search By Author

Content Type


  • General
    • News
    • Introductions
    • General Discussion
  • Written Works
    • Stories
    • Role Playing
    • Continuous Stories
    • Unfinished Stories
    • Fantasies and Story Ideas
    • Chat & Role-Playing Transcripts
    • Real-Life Muscle Growth Experiences
  • MG's Storiversary
    • General
    • 5th Annual Storiversary
    • Storiversary Story Archive
  • Media
    • General Images
    • Artwork & Morphs
    • Artists Showcase
    • Videos
    • Before & After Transformations
  • Community
    • Personals
    • Chat Buddies
    • Surveys & Polls
    • Advertisements
  • Bodybuilding
    • General
    • Training
    • Muscle & Mind
    • Diet & Nutrition
    • Steroids
    • Watch Me Grow
  • Off Topic
    • Main Off Topic Board
    • News & Current Events
    • Weird / Funny / Interesting
  • Hyper and Impossibly Big Muscle!'s Welcome!
  • Hyper and Impossibly Big Muscle!'s Gallery
  • DC Area Muscle's Discussion
  • Tall Muscle's Discussion & Advice
  • Furry Muscle Club's Club Chat
  • Miembros Hispanohablanes!'s Presentaciones
  • Miembros Hispanohablanes!'s Sponsor buscando culturistas
  • Miembros Hispanohablanes!'s Culturistas buscando sponsor
  • Superstrength and Crushing's Your favorite Superstrength & Crushing Stories
  • Dumbing Down Fraternity's Mutual Muscling
  • Dumbing Down Fraternity's Dumb Stud Pictures
  • Dumbing Down Fraternity's Dumbing You
  • Dumbing Down Fraternity's Meathead Make-Believe
  • South East Asia Muscle Club's Muscle Tales
  • 2D Muscle Artists's Topics
  • Bodybuilding Best Practices's Top Tips, Articles and Guides
  • Bodybuilding Best Practices's Video Clips
  • Bodybuilding Best Practices's Bodybuilding Websites
  • Second Life's GYMS
  • Second Life's Topics
  • New York City Muscle's Personals
  • New York City Muscle's Member Intro
  • Rochester NY Area Lifters's Topics
  • 3D Muscle Club's Topics

Find results in...

Find results that contain...

Date Created

  • Start


Last Updated

  • Start


Filter by number of...

  1. I know it's been a long time and frankly, I haven't been inspired to write very much. However, I recently received a message from someone on this site with a idea for a new story. As we chatted, I started to get an idea. Once I started writing, I realized the potential these ideas had. All that being said, I think this might be my best story yet but I'll let you be the judge. Please enjoy and let me know what you think. Introducing Jacob... High School Chapter 1 It was the first day of senior year and Jacob wasn’t looking forward to it. It would be his first day at a new school for the third time in five years. Thanks to his dad getting yet another new job, he was starting all over once again. Not that Jacob really minded. He didn’t have many friends from his old schools to miss and wasn’t really looking to make new ones either. He had only one real priority, becoming as big as humanly possible. Jacob was undeniably the biggest 18 year old on the planet and if he wasn’t, he was certainly well on his way to becoming the biggest. Ever since he was elementary school, Jacob was obsessed with building muscle. It immediately became an obsession and consumed most of his time. When he wasn’t lifting huge weights, he was devouring insane quantities of food. His parents happily supported his choice because it made their many moves easier, as long as they moved his weights, Jacob never complained. By the time he started junior high, Jacob could lift weights only veteran bodybuilders dreamed they could. In fact, to compare Jacob to a bodybuilder would be inaccurate, he desired to become something beyond what the most decorated professionals could ever dream of obtaining. He would scour the internet trying to find someone that had achieved the level of mass he was determined to obtain. Even freaks like Craig Goliath and Big Ramy were too small and weak to Jacob. He often turned to skillfully crafted morphs and artwork of fictional muscular giants just to get additional motivation. Jacob woke up at 5 a.m. this morning so he could workout for two hours before school. He was dreading having to be stuck in class instead of spending the entire day working out. In the month since they had moved in, Jacob had done little else but lift. Aside from the odd trip to the grocery store, he hadn’t spent any time exploring his new town. Stepping out of the shower, Jacob couldn’t help but admire his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He knew he would be the biggest kid at school but he didn’t care, to him, he was still too small. He dropped his towel and slowly raised his arms into a magnificent double bicep pose. He let out a low moan as he reached the full flex. He marvelled at his swollen biceps. He measured them after his gruelling workout at 22”. While he cursed himself about the number not being 24” earlier, he could not deny at this moment, his arms looked downright freaky attached to his 18 year old face. After a minute holding the pose, his arms were shaking but as more thick veins appear on his paper-thin skin, he couldn’t stop flexing. In his mind, he envisioned his arms surpassing his 28” waist. It was only moments later that he released the pose to grab hold of his raging cock. His intense muscle-lust coupled with his teenage sex drive resulted in this scene quite often. As Jacob stoked his cock, he caressed his bloated pecs. He kneaded the thick slabs of beef as the individual muscle fibres twitched and flexed. At 56”, his massive pecs cast a long shadow over his chiselled ads. With one final flex of his entire upper body, Jacob unleashed a thick stream of cum all over the mirror. “Fuck, this school won’t believe their eyes” he said as he cleaned off some stray cum from his pecs and abs. Jacob gabbed a clean tank top and audibly struggled to get it over his wide shoulders and lats. Even thought he tank was only a couple of weeks old, it already looked to be stretched to its limits. Next, he grabbed a very short pair of shorts that looked more like boxer briefs than outer wear. Jacob may not have cared wheat people thought of his body, but he certainly didn’t mind showing it off. After fixing his hair in the mirror, Jacob hit a mild most muscular pose. He heard a seam pop on his tank top and decided it was best to get going before he had to find something else to wear. During his 10 minute walk to school, Jacob consumed two huge protein shakes and ate five protein bars. Just before he reached the front door, he looked down at his exposed quads and calves. He was immediately transfixed by the incredible pump his calves had gotten from the walk. He stopped to flex his left calf and couldn’t help moan as it swelled to a mind-boggling 21”. Thick rope-like veins covered every inch. He couldn’t help but run is hand over his outrageously massive quad, stopping to squeeze the bloated tear-drop muscle that literally hung over his tiny kneecap. “Ok, enough of that. Time to prepare for the main event.” He said to himself as he opened the school main door and stepped inside. “Holy Shit!” “Oh my god!” “Look at that FREAK!” “Gross, that’s so DISGUSTING” Just a few of the comments Jacob heard before he was 10 feet into the building. One guy walked into an open locker door and hit his head pretty hard. With a confident smirk on his face, Jacob walked down the hall searching for his homeroom class. These reactions were nothing new to Jacob. In fact, he had learned to feed off them years ago. Next to using his insane strength and pumping his muscles well beyond their limits, seeing people freak out over his size was Jacob’s favourite thing. The first time he was called a freak really upset him. But as it continued to happen and with increased frequency the more he grew, Jacob realized that it meant he was starting to achieve his dream of becoming a true mass monster. The more disgusted people became the more motivated and quite frankly, aroused he became. Soon, Jacob wasn’t satisfied unless people became physically sick at the site of him. He loved cumming while replaying people’s over-the-top comments in his head. He also fantasied about getting those same reactions in the presence of the biggest professional bodybuilders. Imagining Big Ramy puking just at the sight of his unflexed body caused Jacob to cum the most. By the time he found his classroom, news of the freaky huge new kid had spread to all corners of the school. As he stepped through the door, all talking stopped. Jacob surveyed the room of his slack-jawed school mates as he slowing made his way to the back of the room. Everyone stared in awe but no one dared to make a sound. The teacher looked confused when he walked in to a full room of silent teenagers. It wasn’t until he looked to the back of the class that he figured out why. “Oh my! You must be Jacob!” He stammered. “They said you were big but I didn’t expect so much-“ “Huge, freaky muscle?” Jacob interrupted. The teacher’s mouth remained open, but words stopped coming out. A minute later, he had regained enough composure to instruct the class to find their seats. After the students were seated, the teacher looked to the back of the room to see Jacob still standing. “Um-please find a seat.” He said to Jacob. “Sorry Teach but I don’t think these desks are made for someone like me.” “Please sit.” The teacher said, trying to sound authoritative but it came out sounding scared and timid. Jacob shook his head and tried to sit at the nearest desk. The entire class turned their heads and watched as the massive boy struggled to get seated. Loud creaks filled the room as Jacob’s massive body wedged itself into the seat. The desks were the table-top seat combos that offered very little in the way of adjustment. Jacob could barely fit his meaty quads in the gap between the seat and the desk. He tried for close to 30 seconds before becoming frustrated. Suddenly his fist slammed down on the top of the desk, cracking it instantly. Jacob then gripped the wooden desk and plastic seat and started to pull. His already bloated body exploded in size. There were audible gasps from the class. Jacob adjusted his grip and let out a low roar and pulled harder. With seemly little effort, the plastic seat was torn off the metal frame of the desk. Jacob tossed the seat and repositioned his hand on the metal frame. There was a load groan of screeching metal and the frame started to bend. Jacob’s arms visibly inflated and each individual muscle fibre leap into action. Jacob’s ridiculously wide back appeared to double in size as he continued to bend the metal frame like it was wet pasta. With one final grunt and tug, Jacob stood straight up and the desk disintegrated around him. He stepped out of the pile of desk parts and placed his hands on his hips. “Told you the desk wasn’t made for this body.” He said and slowly flexed into a front lat spread. Slowly his lats expanded until they jutted three feet from his sides. They only stopped swelling when they made contact with his equally massive arms and forearms. Next, his pecs rose upward and outward. Deep striations and countless veins snaked across they surface. Even under the tight tank top fabric, veins could been seen pulsing. Finally, Jacob’s traps rose up either side of his neck as his quads and calves flexed so huge, there was barely any separation between them. At full flex, Jacob could hear loud screams and gags from the students in the room. Many had to look away in horror while others were clearly mortified at the sight they could not stop watching. Jacob turned to look a the teacher who was visible shaking and leaning against his desk to stop himself from collapsing on the floor. “Oh my god! Please stop!” the teacher muttered. “Sorry teach, I couldn’t hear you. Did you say come up the front of the class and show everyone just how insanely massive I am?” Jacob replied and slowly made his way towards the front of the class. It’s fair to say, Jacob always moved slowly, due mainly by the size of his quads. To even call how he moved walking was inaccurate; Jacob waddled. Arriving at the front of the class, Jacob turned to face the class. He pointed to a skinny kid sitting in the first row and motioned for him to approach. Jacob raised his arms and leaned forward. “Strip off this tank top. It’s pretty new and the only shirt I have. I want to try to make it last the whole day.” The poor kid was shaking like a leaf. “Come on dude. My lats are WAY too big for me to get this off myself. Don’t worry, I won’t bite; unless I get hungry.” Jacob said with a chuckle. Slowly the kid started to peel the skin tight tank top up Jacob’s back. When it was halfway up Jacob was growing impatient. “SOMEONE HELP HIM!” he yelled. Another petrified student joined the first kid and within seconds the tank top was pulled over Jacob’s head. Once free, he slowly stood back up and the class was confronted by his exposed upper body and a new wave to terrified screams filled the room. “This is what a 267lb 18 year old looks like. I’m only 5’8” but getting pretty close to being just as wide as that.” Jacob said and started to hit flawless poses each one accompanied by grunts, moans and exaggerated gasps. “No 18 year old has 22” arms, 18” forearms, 56” pecs and a tiny 28” waist. Not to mention some of the biggest quads on the planet. Check out these 32” quads and 21” calves.” “So Gross!” Someone yelled out. “Gross? You think all this muscle is gross. You know what I think it is? SMALL. I’m plan to doubling this size in a couple of years!” Jacob said. He was breathing hard from hitting the different poses but saved the best for last. He extended his pumped left leg and leaned closer to the class. He slowly bent his arms and started to hit a most muscular pose. His already blood-filled body exploded in every direction. Jacob showed incredible muscle control and he willed each muscle group to flex and expand. His arms slammed into his flexed pecs as his shoulders solidified into pumpkin-sized striated bolders. His vein-covered traps rose to graze his ears as his neck thickened to become wider than his head. He tightened his already rock-hard abs so each developed muscle resembled the density of bricks. His shorts could not contain the monstrous beef of his quads and rose up so high it looked like a posing suit. Even with his legs spread apart, Jacobs calves looked like they were about to touch each other. At full flex, Jacob’s entire body was shaking. His skin now covered in the light layer of sweat which made his outrageous vascular look even more extreme. He let out a glass-shaking roar and he somehow continued to flex. Through gritted teeth he screamed “I’m not stopping until someone either pukes or passes out.” Most of the kids were screaming and covering their eyes. A few looked like they were ready to faint and more than one of the boys held their hands over their obvious erections. Still not seeing what he desired most, Jacob let out another scream as his flexed muscles were starting to cause him pain. A pain that pushed him to flex even harder. He slowly turned to face the teacher, who was cowering behind his desk. With one laboured step Jacob moved closer. He could see the terror in the teacher’s face. “DO IT!” He commanded and within seconds, the teacher bent over and puked all over the top of his desk. He stood up and stumbled back, slamming into the chalkboard before collapsing on the floor. As Jacob relaxed his pose he smiled as he realized the teacher had a large wet stain on the front of his pants. His recently spent erection was clearly still rock-hard. Jacob tuned to face the class once more. He picked his tank top off a nearby desk and waddled towards the back of the class. “Is homeroom over yet?”
  2. pasidious

    Jolias Finally Lets Go - Part 6

    Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 I was walking like a freak of nature. I looked like one of those people who thinks speed-walking is a sport. My jogging would have been slower. But, I couldn't help myself. I was getting looks from passers-by. I didn't even care. I was eager to get to the Den and hopefully be there before Jolias has to wait for too long. But I also just wanted to see him again. I wanted to be in his presence. There was a bit of an incline leading up from the Den towards the main classroom building, and as I rounded the corner, I stumbled and almost fell, looking like an idiot as I basically danced my way back to balance. And not gracefully. I decided to slow my pace a bit after that, but fortunately I was already pretty much at the Den anyway. I approached the double-doors of the building, and I slowed my walk even further. There were several students milling around outside socializing, either coming or going. But I didn't see Jolias. I couldn't tell, obviously, if he'd beaten me here and already gone inside or if he hadn't arrived yet. I looked around, and I couldn't see that telltale mop of dark hair. I kept glancing in the direction of where the campus gym was to see if he was coming, and I didn't see him. But if I walked inside to see if he was already in there, and he wasn't, he may arrive and wonder where I am. So I texted him. Where you at And then like a child waiting to be told he could open his Christmas gift, I stared at my phone, waiting for those iPhone bubbles to appear to let me know he was typing a response. But nothing came up. It was times like this when I actually wished he had his read-receipt function turned on. But, then again, sometimes not knowing was better. I decided to sit on one of the benches that was outside of the building. The chill of the cold bench made me shiver even more than I already was from wearing only a short-sleeve shirt, having been forced to tie my hoodie around my waist thanks to my ever-present erection, leaking so much precum that I looked like I pissed myself. All just from thinking about this dude. My phone continued to rest within my fingers, waiting for the telltale sound of a text message coming through. I sat there, staring off into the distance, the noise of the surrounding students and any other commotion just a dull hum in the background, as I waited for some sign of Jolias. I mean, shit, the gym was about equidistant from the Den as the main classroom building. What the fuck was taking him so long? Was he even coming? I stared down at my phone's homescreen, not even bothering to check the text thread to see if those bubbles would ever appear. I was beginning to wonder if he'd changed his mind and decided to do something else. Or perhaps he met some other dude at the campus gym and became fast friends like he did with me. I mean, he did meet me for all of two minutes and immediately invited me to a late dinner. Why wouldn't he do the same with someone else? There's got to be about a thousand other dudes here who are cooler and much more attractive than I am. "BLARGHHH" a sudden guttural, throaty exclamation came from some entity that was immediately behind my ears, and I felt strong hands grip and lightly shove my shoulders forward as I sat on the cold bench. I damn near dropped my phone, but whipped my head around once in one direction, only seeing a blur of a humanoid figure in my peripheral vision, then rotated my head in the other direction to see the origin of the noise and contact. And as always, at least so far, my heart fluttered and butterflies danced within my gut as I looked upon the seething hotness that is Jolias. He had that shit-eating grin upon his face, knowing full well that he startled the shit out of me. And suddenly the background noise was back to full volume as I heard people talking, sounds of traffic, and the somewhat dull sounds of nature as a few remaining birds chirped and squawked in the distance. And fuck. He was covered up. Hoodie zipped up, pants, and even his backpack was slung across his shoulder adding just that extra bit of obscurity to his body. I was hoping he'd been too lazy to get completely dressed, but then again, perhaps this is what took him so long. He was getting dressed. "Fuck you, dude," I said, muttering it, attempting to appear annoyed. "Aw did I scare ya?" he chuckled, feigning concern that he'd done what he suggested. I couldn't help but grin. "Almost made me drop my phone, ya dickhead," I responded, still holding a grin on my face, but I realized I was attempting, poorly, to hide the fact I was amused. "Yeah yeah, you didn't though, so... why are you only wearing your t-shirt? Y'know the thing around your waist can be worn as a sort of 'hoodie,' right?" he asked sarcastically. He even did the air-quotes. I couldn't tell him... or rather, I couldn't comfortably explain to him that I once again made a mess of myself just from thinking about him and needed to cover up. "You're fucking shivering dude, come on let's go inside, I'm starving anyway." He then literally grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet, and guided me to the doors. My heart was dancing within my chest. Truthfully I didn't even realize I was shivering, but the other physical affects he was having on me made me oblivious. Just his touch upon my bare forearm made my cock throb and swell. Thankfully I was already covered up. Once inside, I felt the warm air envelop my body and immediately I realized just how chilly I was outside. FUCK I needed to dress more appropriately for these events. An extra hoodie or even a jacket would be a good idea from here on out. He released my arm once we were inside, though, and I exhaled in disappointment. I looked down at the hand that was no longer wrapped around my arm and I envisioned myself grabbing it, entwining my fingers with his. But I had to purge the idea from my mind as I'm sure he'd probably reject my hand if I attempted it. I looked back up and saw him staring at me, a cool look of indifference on his face. "'Sup." I felt my face burn red and I had to look away. He chuckled but didn't say anything more. We walked into the dining area and got in line to order food. "So, uh, Jolias, how was the gym?" I finally managed to sputter out. "It was alright, nothing too extreme. Did a light workout today, which was good since now I get to have lunch with you," he stated super matter-of-factly, bumping his shoulder into mine as we stood in line. My cock throbbed. I couldn't tell if I was in love or in lust, but I couldn't care at the moment. He was just too cute. "Oh, what made it just 'alright,' and not, like, awesome?" I asked, trying to get more out of him. He chuckled. "I D K," he shrugged, once again saying the actual letters instead of the words "I don't know." "I had, well, still have a lot on my mind." "That can affect your workout?" I asked, genuinely interested. I've never really spent any real time working out myself, so I didn't know what it was like. I was also super curious about what was on his mind, but it seemed like it could be private stuff and I didn't want to seem nosy and annoying. "Yeah dude, it can be hard to focus when you're thinking of other things, especially if it's stuff that stresses you out. And I'm not saying I'm stressed, I'm just using an example. I could've focused harder on my muscles as I was lifting, but my mind kept going elsewhere." "How does it help to focus on your muscles while lifting?" I asked. He smiled at me, kindly. "Well, it definitely helps when you work a specific muscle to focus on it, make it flex hard as you reach every contraction. It maximizes the affect of the weight and strain you put on it." And then he cocked an eyebrow at me. "I take it you haven't spent much time in a gym, have ya?" I looked away, a bit embarrassed. He'll probably think I'm a weak loser, but I can't exactly hide the fact I'm not a gym-goer if I'm asking him these questions. I hadn't considered the possible consequences of asking these questions. "No dude, s-sorry," I sputtered out, still looking away. "Why are you sorry?" he asked, chuckling. "Oh! Uh, I dunno," I replied, looking back at him, shrugging. "Come with me next time! If you wanna learn more and workout, I'll help!" he exclaimed, a little excitedly. "How about I just watch, and try not to explode cum into my pants" I thought to myself. "Right, I forgot you already asked me to come," I said, raising my hand to the back of my head. "Wouldn't I just slow you down?" "Nope!" "But--" and that's all I got out before he shoved me lightly in the chest. "Stop overthinking things, dude. Sometimes it pays to just do something. So, come on!" he said, and pulled my arm, and me, to the counter since it was finally our turn to order food. "Man I just wanna see you workout" I thought to myself as I was stating my order to the dude behind the counter. I wasn't even sure of what I was ordering; my mind had detached itself from my body. I needed to make it known to Jolias that I wanted him. That I wanted to date him. That I wanted to kiss him so badly that I quivered in anticipation just thinking about it. But, love is hard. It shouldn't be, but it is. Friendships are hard, too, especially when they dance around the boundaries of love and sex. I could have this amazing friend Jolias for the rest of my life if I keep my mouth shut and swallow my feelings. If I admit my attraction to him, he might pull away and we could end up being total strangers to each other within a year. Or, just maybe... "Dude, you comin'?" Jolias called over to me as I stood like a fool just holding my tray of food, still at the cash register. Fuck. I felt my face flush a little red as the heat spread across my cheeks. Embarrassed for having zoned out, I didn't actually say anything and just swiftly walked towards Jolias as he stood there with a slightly amused expression. He kind of cocked his head to the side as I approached him, and just chuckled. "W-what?" I said, accidentally stammering, failing to play it off like nothing happened there. "Nothin' dude, you're just cute," he said, putting his tray down on one of the few empty tables in The Den. He stopped moving for a moment as I was taking a seat, and it clicked in my brain that he'd just called me cute. "I mean--" he started to say, but I cut him off. "You think I'm cute?" I asked, using a tone I can't recall using before. I needed an answer. And, yeah, he told me I was cute at Denny's. But, that seemed more like a reciprocation for having told him he was hot. This time, it was unsolicited. He just said it. And it means he actually meant it. It was like a confirmation I'd been hoping for but never thought I'd ever get. "Um, I mean..." he stuttered. His face was turning a shade of red. And fuck. It was so cute. Suddenly I realized our roles had been reversed. At Denny's I was the one stuttering about how I thought he was hot. Now it was his turn. I was actually seated in my chair, tray of food in front of me, but Jolias was still standing there, holding his backpack, his chair not even pulled out yet, and it was the first time I'd seen him behaving in a not-so-confident manner. I couldn't help but smirk a little. But then, in an instant, I saw Jolias's body relax as he calmly put his backpack down and pulled his chair out, and sat down. A small smile creeped across his lips as he glanced at me and finally said "Dude I told you last night I thought you were cute." I was totally shocked, as always, to see him take a situation in which I'd be a total wreck and turn it into another display of his self-confidence. And he wasn't wrong. He did say it last night, too. But this time was different. "Right, but this time..." I started to say but trailed off. I was trying to keep the upper hand here but I was failing. "This time what?" he said, giving me little time to reform my thoughts. He was grinning, now. "This time you said it out of nowhere." He paused and looked up for a second like he was thinking. "Okay, I'll put it out there on the table now. I think you're cute," he lowered his voice a little. "And sexy." My face went red again and I felt my jaw drop a little. "And I can't stop wondering if we'd make a good couple." Of course, I didn't have any way of knowing what he truly meant by make a good couple, but in my own mind I had my own version of that sentiment. I wasn't sure we'd be a good couple because I thought I wasn't good enough for him. But here he was, telling me he thought I was cute and sexy. "Why wouldn't we make a good couple?" I asked, lowering my voice to match his. He looked around again, like he thought we were being watched. And for the second time in just a short span of time, I got to see Jolias display a level of uncertainty he'd never exhibited before. It was odd to see his self-confidence so uncharacteristically low. "I just... I mean..." he started, and stuttered a little. He kept fidgeting with his hands on the table. And we each seemed to have forgotten we even had food as it grew colder on the table, completely ignored by us. "There's a... thing... about me that I'm not sure you'd like." "I'm sure that's false," I blurted out instantly, already overly confident that there couldn't possibly be a single thing about him I wouldn't like. "Don't be so sure, dude," he said, almost in a whisper. His smile was still there, but it was more subdued than I'd ever seen it, like he was super unsure if he should even still be sitting here. I reached out and took one of his hands into my own and gripped it. "Tell me what it is." It was almost like the drop in his confidence made mine rise a little. He didn't recoil his hand, either. He let me hold it. He closed his eyes. "Meet me in the bathroom." "What?" "Just meet me in the bathroom," he repeated, pulling his hand out of mine. He stood up, totally ignoring his food, and walked away, heading straight out of the dining area towards the bathroom. I glanced down at my tray and felt my stomach grumble. I sighed and scooted my chair away from the table and stood up. "Guess lunch will have to wait," I thought to myself. But then the butterflies settled into my stomach, replacing the hunger, as I started to realize there are only just a few rational reasons why a dude would ask me to meet him in the bathroom, as I walked towards the bathroom where I assume Jolias was now waiting. I gripped the handle of the bathroom door and attempted to turn it. It was locked. I jiggled it a little, which is obligatory. I don't think anyone ever just tries a locked door handle just once. I glanced around, and Jolias wasn't standing anywhere nearby, so he had to be the one inside. But I hesitated to knock. But before I could even settle on a decision, knock or don't knock, the door swung open just wide enough and a strong hand gripped my upper arm and pulled me inside. I stumbled a little and as I regained my balance, I heard the door shut and the lock turn. I turned around and saw him standing there, his back against the door, like he thought the lock wouldn't be enough and he needed to hold it shut. He had an indifferent expression on his face. His red eyes were focused, intense, like he was thinking hard about something. "I need to see something," he simply stated, as he stepped away from the door towards me. There was a mirror above the sink across from the single toilet in the room. It wasn't a huge room, but it was large enough since it was equipped for handicap accessibility. "Something that requires the bathroom?" I asked, my voice shaky. "I wanted privacy. Don't wanna get other people involved if I can help it," he stated, and reached up and started pulling down the zipper of his hoodie. "Wh-what?" I felt myself step backwards for some reason, like I was afraid he'd attack me. "What are you doing?" I asked as I watched him unzip his hoodie in what seemed like an achingly slow manner. "Just..." he started to say something but stopped, and suddenly yanked the zipper all the way down in a swift motion. As the hoodie was now separated down the middle, I could see he had on a tight garment underneath. It looked like a wife-beater. I saw abs poking through the thin fabric, and my mouth was already salivating. He had abs! And not the barely-there type. They were showing through his fucking shirt! My breath caught in my throat, and I could see him eyeing me, reading my reaction. His eyes narrowed a bit, and I started to worry about what type of behaviors he was expecting from me. Did he want me to be pleased? Did he want me to be disgusted? Was I supposed to simply be indifferent? I had to strive for zero reaction because I didn't want to push him away. I swallowed the drool I'd already accumulated and focused on keeping myself together. He shrugged the hoodie off entirely in another swift motion and I was right. It was a wife-beater underneath. Black. And form-fitting. His delicious abs were poking through, and there were easily six bricks there. And nice taut pecs were visible, along with his muscle-capped shoulders and toned arms. The kind of arms you don't even need to see flexed to know they belonged to a dude who worked out. He dropped his arms to his sides, holding the hoodie, letting it dangle. My cock was growing again, and I was glad I still had it hidden by my own hoodie around my waist. "Wh-what are you trying to see?" I asked him, enjoying the sight before me. He turned enough to hang his hoodie on the hook attached to the back of the door of the bathroom, and I got a glimpse of his lats as they flared a little. He then looked back at me, still with no real expression, and crossed his arms in an X front of him, gripping the bottom hem of his wife-beater and in one fluid motion pulled it up over his head, tossing it to the floor. I literally heard myself gasp, and I couldn't help it. I definitely couldn't stop it. Jolias was standing there, shirtless, nothing covering his upper body any longer. His hair was slightly disheveled now, but it didn't matter because he was hot as fuck. The sun had nothing on him. My cock was at full attention once again, thanks to Jolias, and he was a vision of pure beauty. Sexiness. Hotness. He was incredible. His body wasn't huge by any means, but his muscles were tight, toned, and he had muscular curves in all the right places. And that six-pack was amazing. He even had that adonis belt that made me want to jizz in my pants whenever I so much as looked at one. And this one was attached to Jolias, the hottest guy I'd ever seen. And in an instant, Jolias was across the small room. His hand pressed me against the wall and then he put both hands against it, trapping me. And now, with my back against the wall, his toned arms on either side of me, his face was mere inches from mine. I heard our breathing, my heart thudding in my chest, and nothing else. We said nothing. Jolias's eyes were intense, red, and they were like balls of fire in his head. Bright. He finally broke the silence, "Check this out." And he brought his right arm up into a bicep-flex. And FUCK. His arm tensed into a sexy ball of muscle that I couldn't have even imagined. It was so defined and toned. A small vein protruded from the top as he held the flex. I couldn't move. I was frozen. I didn't know what kind of reaction would make him decide we were compatible, since that seemed to be the big question in his head. But I couldn't hold it back any longer. My desire was too great. I needed to feel it. So, I reached my hand up and gripped his ball of muscle and squeezed. And it was hard as a rock. Hot to the touch. And then I saw the slight curve of a smile on his lips. I took that to mean this is at least somewhat of a reaction he was looking for. I prodded it with my fingers, squeezing and poking it, and it was so hard. Hot, sexy, toned Jolias muscles finally revealed. I took a risk and used my other hand to run my fingers down his slight pecs and onto his abs, feeling the individual bricks of muscle he'd developed. He didn't recoil. In fact, his tiny smile only seemed to grow. "Would you wanna see me get bigger?" he asked. I was breathless. FUCK yes I did. But I promised myself that I'd do something specific the next time we were this close together. I tilted my head forward and kissed him. And his flexed arm fell along with the other one that was trapping me on my other side. They fell and hung like wet noodles as I pressed my lips into his. And my own hands reached up and gripped the back of his head, feeling his soft hair. Running my fingers through his thick mane of beautiful hair, I held his head in place, enjoying the taste of his lips. "Mmmmm" I heard him groan, and suddenly his arms were around me, his firm muscles pressing against me. I felt one hand on my ass and he squeezed it, and my own hands started to venture away from his soft hair. I explored the expanse of his back, feeling even more muscles back there that he'd grown. His whole body was tight and hard and oh-so-sexy. My hard cock was pressed against his body now, and it was throbbing intensely. I was certain I could cum just from the friction against his body. But then I noticed something hard poking me back down there. I reached down and gripped his cock for the first time. "Mmmm" I moaned into his mouth, our lips still locked. It would have been "Wow," but I couldn't speak and I wasn't about to break this amazing kiss. His cock was thick and hard as steel. His arms tightened around me, and he squeezed me against his body, his tongue dancing within my mouth, wrestling my own tongue. I squeezed his hard dick again, and I could swear it felt bigger and harder. And I felt his whole body shudder against me, and suddenly it felt like my head was tilting upwards a bit to keep my lips locked with his. He must've been standing on his toes. And then he pulled his lips off mine, his eyes closed. His head was tilted back, "Uunngh" he grunted, and I watched him somehow stand even taller, his previously shorter height now somehow greater than mine. I looked down to check his feet, and they were flat on the ground. My eyes widened, and I looked back up just in time for him to push himself away from me. In a flash, I saw thicker pecs, wider shoulders, and even tighter abs, but only for an instant before Jolias suddenly turned around. "I-- I'm sorry!" he gasped loudly, bending down to grab his beater and practically tore his hoodie as he pulled it off the hook on the door. "What--" I started to say but he didn't even try to put his clothes back on. He unlocked the door and whipped it open and was gone. The door clicked shut again and I was left standing there, staring at nothing but an empty bathroom. I almost literally jumped across the room and opened the door to give chase, but he was already out of sight. I saw people looking in the direction I'd only assume he'd gone, but I reconsidered the idea of running after him. Probably not a good look to go chasing after a dude who just ran from a bathroom, shirtless. I felt a little heartbroken, but at the same time, extremely interested in what just happened. Was Jolias just taller than I realized? Did he grow taller just now? Or was I on some sort of hallucinogenic drugs? Why did he run? I was confused, to say the least. I went back to the table we'd taken in the dining area and his backpack was still there. As were our trays of untouched, now cold, food. If he wanted to already break off a relationship that never even truly got a chance to happen, he'd have to come to me to get his shit. *** I didn't expect that. He kissed me. And it was so hot. I was definitely getting the impression he'd be into my body. And I was right. He likes my muscles. But he fucking kissed me. I want him so bad. He fucking kissed me! I didn't fucking plan for that! I was about to let myself loose, and I didn't even realize it 'til it was already starting. I had to run. I had no choice. But now I have to deal with the fallout somehow. How would I explain this to him? And he never answered me. I still don't know if he'd like me bigger.
  3. pasidious

    Becoming an Alpha - Part 3A

    There's a certain level of difficulty returning to a story that hasn't been touched in over a year. I reread the first parts of this story and realized there was much more I could do with it, so here's my attempt at continuing it. I don't know why I decided to break a third part into two sections, but let's see how it goes! __________________________ Part 2 I'd always heard dudes talking about the greatness of getting a blowjob. I mean, not literally always, but often enough that I got the impression that a dude is not truly a man unless he's had one. But it was also always clear that the dudes who DID get blowjobs were always jocks. Alpha males. Something I was not. I spent most of my life envying those guys. Now, standing in my dorm room in front of the mirror with a shirt on that was once too big on me and now a bit tight, I got the feeling I was becoming an alpha. A jock. Without having ever played a sport. I smirked at my reflection, admiring how my new pecs were outlines beneath the fabric of my plain shirt. My arms hugged by the sleeves, veins running up and down my forearms. It even felt tight in my armpits, a sensation with which I was entirely unfamiliar. But it felt really cool. That feeling of my shirt trying to contain my body. If I raised my arms, my shirt would ride up and expose my abs. Abs! I never had those before except the faint outlines of what lay beneath my skin thanks to having almost no fat. But those don't count. All guys who claim they have "abs" just because they're skinny rails get made fun of. But, as I raised my arms to enjoy the sensation of a too-small shirt, my sexy abs came into view, along with another part of me I never thought I'd ever see. An actual Adonis belt. It wasn't prominent, but still visible. Not yet, anyway. I smirked again, thinking of the growth still to come. Was this why other jocks were so big? Growing after a blowjob? No. No fucking way. If this were accepted fact, it'd be readily available information. Something taught in sex-ed. All the years I'd spent ogling sexy muscular models on the internet and browsing forums would've yielded such a fact. No. This was something unusual. Something that had to be unique only to me. It would seem I'd won some sort of genetic lottery. I raised my right arm and flexed. My bicep rose up into a hard ball of muscle that tightened the sleeve around it, a sensation that sent shivers down my spine. "Fuck yeah," I said aloud to myself. I took my other hand and caressed the hard muscle, feeling its hardness. And it was hard. Harder than my muscles had ever been. I couldn't help but wonder if I was looking at my real body or if this were some sort of fantasy I was playing out in my brain that was going just a little too far. But I pinched myself and felt the sting. Nothing dissipated. As my arms fell to my sides, I flexed my chest just to see the shirt jump. What a feeling! Not only just to even be able to flex pecs I never had before, but to even see them through my shirt! My stomach growled. I felt the all-too-familiar pang of hunger that came from not paying attention to the time. A sensation usually that came from my constant studying and not allotting breaks for food. But this time it was because I was ogling myself for too long. It suddenly occurred to me that this is probably what jocks do, too. Actually, it's definitely what jocks do, considering the massive number of photos on the internet of dudes flexing in mirrors and taking photos of themselves. The countless gym selfies. But my stomach growled again and I had to shake myself out of this reverie. Time for food. It was still summer, so I didn't need to wear warm clothes or anything. I just kept on what I was wearing, the same t-shirt and shorts, and left my dorm to head over to the campus cafeteria. As I was walking under the still-hot sun, I realized my legs had gotten thicker. I mean, I already knew they had, but the sensation of my thighs rubbing together as I walked was brand new. I had to adjust the way I was walking. I wanted to stop and lift my shorts to get a better look at my quads, but I felt that might draw too much attention from others. It'd be weird. But, I could still just glance down and see my new thicker calves bulging as I walked. It was so cool. My lower legs no longer looked like they belonged to an anorexic dude. Well, maybe they never did look like that, but I never had any real shape to my legs. Just long limbs with no curves or anything. But now I had calves that were bulging as I walked, clearly shaped, like I spent lots of time jogging or biking or whatever. I wanted so bad to lift my shorts and get a look at my quads, something that never occurred to me until now. But, I guess when you spend your life as a weakling, it's hard to remember there are other muscles than just pecs, arms, and abs. Now I wanted to get a good look at my back, too. I often loved seeing pictures of muscled dudes flexing their backs, their lats flaring out, and my cock throbbing in my hand as I jerked it. A wide back with that coveted V-taper is something I always loved to see. The cafeteria doors came into view much sooner than I remembered, but I was distracted the whole walk by my new body. How could I pay attention to anything else? My tight shirt was still digging into my pits. Weird feeling. Slightly uncomfortable. But still felt good when I considered the reason. I sat down, alone as always, with my tray of food. I usually nursed small portions, slowly nibbling away until I felt sufficiently full, but for the first time ever I was actually hungry enough that I couldn't wait to get nourishment. I had more food than usual to start, and before long the tray was already empty. And I still felt hungry. So I went and got more. Thankfully I was on a meal plan and didn't have to worry about paying for it. I shoveled the food into my mouth and couldn't believe how much I was consuming. I wasn't blind to the change in my usual amount, but, I also wasn't stupid. I knew it had everything to do with my increased size. And as I ate, I absolutely loved glancing with my peripheral vision at my own arms as I moved food into my face. My forearms would writhe as I rotated my wrist, veins protruding with my increased vascularity. My biceps flexed and bulged just from the simple motion of lifting my fork and moving my hand towards my mouth. The sleeve around my biceps was wrapped nicely around them, and it was such a rush to feel the cloth digging into the muscle as it flexed. By the time I finished, and felt full enough, I sat back in my chair and realized my cock had grown into steel hardness, pushing out the front of my shorts in a sizeable bulge, thankfully hidden beneath my table. Knowing I was eating more because of my new muscles, on top of seeing my arm flexing while I ate, made me hard. I had a sudden feeling my cock was going to be hard a lot more often. "Nice arms." I snapped my head in the direction from where the voice originated. A very pretty girl I'd never seen before was passing by my table, and she was eyeing my face with a grin as she continued walking. Her eyes glanced at my arm, then back to my face. I honestly didn't know how to respond to her comment. She turned and faced forward as she moved farther away before I finally found my own voice and responded shakily with "Th-thanks!" I mentally kicked myself for being so slow. How would a jock respond? I glanced down at my empty tray and realized immediately that a confident jock would have flexed for her and said something like "Thanks baby, wanna feel 'em?" I laughed inwardly. Maybe something less awkward, but still a cocky comment. And the girl would most likely have been drooling over him and soon after in the bathroom or some utility closet fucking. Who was I kidding, though? I'm gay. I wouldn't want a girl, anyway. I'd want another dude to compliment me. I'd probably have a much better response in the chamber for a cute guy. And maybe we'd be fucking in the closet or bathroom afterward... Whoa. These are thoughts I never had before. I mean, yeah, I often had fantasies involving myself feeling up a sexy muscle guy, but I rarely had daydreams of myself actually being that muscle guy. "Whoa dude when did you get so buff?" Another voice snapped me out of my thoughts and this time it WAS a dude. "Uh, I dunno," I sheepishly responded, feeling my face turning red. 'Wow, way to have a better response in the chamber,' I thought to myself. I looked up into his face and realized he was in one of my classes. I didn't recall his name, though. "You don't know?" he smiled then chuckled a bit. "Don't be modest, dude, you're looking good." He put his hand on the edge of the table as he stood there, looking down at my face, but I watched his eyes as they also took in the rest of my body, as much as he could in my seated position. Fuck, he was cute, too. Now or never. I mustered the nerve to finally say "Thanks, bro." And then I still awkwardly brought my right arm up and flexed, my bicep bulging into my sleeve as the cloth tightened around it like a second skin. I looked at my flexed bicep, admiring its new size, and then I almost expected this dude to start laughing at me or something. I was in very unfamiliar territory right now. "Fuck. It's so big!" Truthfully my arm wasn't that big, but it looked incredible thanks to my low fat and tight shirt. I instantly wanted to lower my arm and retract into bashfulness, but I had to keep this going. For once someone was in awe of my muscles. He didn't laugh. "Wanna touch it?" I asked, flexing even harder. Instantly his hand reached out and rested upon the peak of my hard bicep. He didn't even say a word. I felt confidence creeping throughout my body as this dude was feeling my muscle. His hand started squeezing it, feeling it, and he moved his palm across it. Then his fingers started poking at it. "It's so hard," he said. "That's not all that's hard." Wait a fucking second. Did I just say those words? Time seemed to stop as I felt my heart sink. I was only meant to have thought those words, not say them. My cock was definitely throbbing hard under the table. It's almost like I wanted this dude to know exactly what was going on right beneath the cheap wood of the table surface. "Oh really?" he asked. His fingers continued gliding along the skin of my bicep, but now continued their trek along my forearm as well. Fuck it. I DID want him to know what was happening under the table. He continued "I guess I should've known there was more. Looks like your pecs are hard, too." His hand reached farther out and poked my chest. "And those shoulders look pretty hard." He grasped my shoulder and squeezed. "Very hard." And then he knelt down and reached right under the table and grasped my hard cock through my shorts. I gasped. "Hot body with a hard cock," he said quietly. Thank GOD I was seated in a corner and no one could actually see what he was doing. But my concern with onlookers was rapidly depleting as my cock was guiding my brain, now. I stood up out of my chair and didn't even care about my empty tray. My bulge was tenting my shorts like there was an actual campsite happening. I didn't care who saw it, though, because my cock was throbbing too hard and eager for some action. "Come with me," I said, and grabbed his hand. My heart was pounding in my chest. This dude wanted my cock, and I was going to give it to him. And I'd leave this building even bigger than when I entered.
  4. Here's another blast from the past written by Lorus for the old forum and saved in my private collection of erotic gems. I'm reposting it here with the author's permission. Mike Hugeman was mentioned in BOOM!, the short story I reposted earlier, so I thought it would be good for readers to know who he is. No one who meets the Hugeman ever forgets him. I certainly haven't. The story has eight episodes followed by a teaser for a sequel. I will post all of them in the same thread. MIKE HUGEMAN SUPER-POWERED MUSCLE WHORE by LORUS Episode 1 The room shook from the force of Ken Preston having the fuck pounded out of his cute bubble-ass. It was his birthday, this day, and he’d used the money he’d gotten from his parents to hire the Hugeman for an afternoon, rather than put it towards his new car. The greatest gay whore in the entire city of Stillbrook didn’t come cheap either, considering he charged five hundred dollars an hour. Not everyone could afford him, but Ken had been building up to this for an entire year of scrimping and saving, deciding that if he was going to lose his virginity, then he was going to do it in style, with the best dick in the world impaling him along its incredible length. “Oh God, this is fucking... ugh... amazing. Don’t...ugh... want it to stop!!!!” Ken was face down on the bed, knees dug into the sheets so that his angelic, heavily lubricated ass pointed upwards. Mike Hugeman, the most super-huge, awesomely massive mega-bodybuilder in the world, rode into the youth with all the experience his craft would ever provide him. He was super-hung, sporting a dick that was a solid eighteen inches long when fully hard. It was thick, too, thicker than a beer can. Given that this was Ken’s first time having sex of any kind, Mike was surprised at just how well he took his meat, imagining the kid probably practiced every day with dildos of ever-increasing dimensions. He loved his work, and was proud of his physical accomplishments, often posing and flexing his enormously pumped muscles during the fucking of his clients. He was versatile, too, and would often grant his customers many of the requests they made of him. Ken was new to this, sure. He would be exhausted afterward, which suited Mike. He had to get to the gym within the hour. It was leg day, and his wheels needed an intense workout. He’d already made the kid shoot his load just by bicep-flexing five minutes after arriving at the dilapidated hotel room. He was used to better surroundings, but reckoned the kid was on a tight budget. Besides, he’d had cockroaches for spectators before, and had fucked in worse places than this. The kid was inexperienced, but his balls were big and round and held a lot of jizz. He would bring him to another incredible orgasm before the hour was up, after which any sex Ken would ever have in his life after this would never match up to the ride he got from the Hugeman. “Take it all in... all of my massive muscle-meat, you little twinkster, yeah fuckin’ moan and scream the Hugeman’s name, ugh yeah!” The bed took as much of a pounding as Ken did, for it groaned under Mike’s huge weight, which was getting close to six hundred pounds, since he’d really thrown himself into his beloved bodybuilding. He loved lifting and he loved fucking. You could say that he lived for these pastimes and nothing else. He was well-known in his native Stillbrook and was totally out about his whoring and his desire to get bigger and stronger. No other gay whore in the city could make the kind of money Mike made, so it could be said that he was the king of his hill, with fuck all in the way of competition. But that was soon to change, along with his life, forever. Meantime, he brought the twinkster to a howling orgasm once again and flared his lats in triumph as his organ, gorged on blood and pumping for all it was worth, penetrated Ken over and over, hurting him in throes of awesome ecstasy from which the eighteen year old hoped he would never recover. Usually, Mike was wider than most doorframes, loving how he had to squeeze sideways just to get in and out of rooms. When he flared his lats it seemed like his body got wider still. Coupled with the rush of his orgasms, his energy levels would peak, and his muscles spring erect and huge. When he flared his lats during ejaculation, he was at his biggest and widest, and the skin across his back groaned in defiance of his increase in size, almost to the point of splitting apart and causing him injury. But it never did. He was strong as an ox... hell... he was strong as a dozen oxen. Ken’s time was almost up. Mike had been pacing himself and could have climaxed long before now. In truth he had a hyperactive sex drive and could easily be ready to orgasm again just two or three minutes after cumming, and his tennis-ball-sized gonads acted rapidly when it came to replenishing their jizz stocks. “Fuck me to death”, pleaded Ken, but Mike would never do that. Despite his ruggedly handsome looks and tough-guy persona, he was pretty much a nice 22-year old Italian American, with only an occasional short fuse, who still found time to visit his Sicilian mama for the best home-cooked pasta in all of Creation. He often joked to his friends that it was his mama’s cooking that was to blame for his enormous muscle-growth. In all honesty, the hunk had no idea why nature had singled him out with such an incredible ability to grow a huge, hulking muscle-bod. He loved getting larger, showing up at get-togethers and causing his friends to gawp in disbelief at how much larger he’d become since they’d last seen him. This got him thinking about the gym, now, and satisfying his other voracious appetites for the good things in life. It was time to blast the twinkster out of it. He gripped the sides of the bed as he gave one final lunge into Ken, his body tensing as it hardened into a seizure of ejaculation. A gushing torrent of creamy spunk erupted from Mike’s eighteen-incher, and he positively adored cumming inside his clients. He didn’t care about disease, for it was impossible to find condoms to fit his gigantic whore’s dick, and his doctor was astounded by the fact that having had unprotected sex with more than four thousand paying clients since he’d started out at just sixteen years of age, that he hadn’t once picked up an STD. He really was a superman in every sense of the word, with a superb immunity to disease that was unprecedented. Ken screamed his loudest as the Hugeman ravaged his hole, pumping a massive load of cum into his body. Even after pulling out of him Mike continued to spurt cum all over his newest client. More and more of the steaming cream soiled Ken and the bed they rode on. Mike then grabbed hold of Ken and firmly turned him around on the bed, so that he was facing up. The look of sheer pleasure on the youth’s face was a sight to behold, and his gaping mouth seemed hungry for Mike’s elixir. He did not disappoint and eagerly shot more and more cum, this time allowing Ken to swallow a great deal of it. “God, it seems I can cum more and more as I get bigger,” Mike bragged and allowed Ken to take his fill. Finally exhausted, Ken slipped into a satisfied slumber, spread-eagled on a grimy bed, and drenched in the Hugeman’s spunk. “My work here is done,” said Mike, and muscle-strutted into the ensuite bathroom to take a shower. The plumbing groaned and spluttered as he lathered himself up with the shower gel from his kit bag. As it was summer, he seldom wore a shirt when he was out in public because he simply loved to show off his gigantic muscle-bod. He was a regular sight on the streets, posing for all he was worth, sometimes allowing guys to come up and touch his thickly-veined muscles, but only if they had cold hard cash for the privilege. Mike Hugeman never gave anything away for free. It simply wasn’t his style. He decided to get ready for the gym here in the hotel room, which didn’t take long. He’d arrived wearing only stretch-denim jeans, his upper body glistening from a mixture of sun-tan lotion and baby oil. Now he placed the jeans in his kit bag and pulled on a sexy pair of black and blue striped spandex workout shorts that did little to tone down the massive bulge his cock and balls formed at their front. He couldn’t wait for it to be larger, too, for it seemed that his cock grew another inch for every fifty pounds of muscle he put on. “Fuckin’ HUGE,” he declared as he bounced the massive shelf of his pecs up and down for a couple of minutes as he dried his ravishing black hair with a hairdryer. He was completely beautiful and loved how his father’s looks married so well with the Italian in him. He’d once been told he looked like a cross between a young John Travolta and Robert Redford. He agreed with this comparison, but reckoned he was many times more handsome than the two actors in their youth. Mike got more and more beautiful with each passing day. He had sparkling blue eyes set beneath a confident brow that complimented his rugged, square jaw-line beautifully. He had full, pouting lips, the bottom larger than the top one, and when they parted to form a smile he had perfect white teeth. He always maintained thick, designer stubble which went well with the curly black hair on some of his chest, which he never shaved. He loved having a lot of hair on his front, and he especially loved how his chest hair tapered down to a fuzzy treasure trail that formed a pleasurable tongue’s highway between his chest hair and his thick but trimmed pubic tuft. At the special request of some of his regular customers, he never shaved his armpits, and the dark bushy growth he had in them was so beautiful, merely lifting his arms and flashing his pits was enough to drive some of his customers to complete, frenzied orgasm. It was time to leave. He sprayed himself with sexy cologne that enhanced his natural masculine musk and flexed some more in the mirror before helping himself to the cash the twinkster left beside the bed. There was a business card sticking halfway out of Ken’s wallet, not that it was any of Mike’s business. But curiosity got the better of him and so he looked at it. And then he got mad... very mad. Episode 2 The sensation that he was no longer asleep, but instead floating mid-air in a slight summer breeze, brought Ken Preston shrieking back to consciousness. He was no longer spread-eagled on a cum-sodden bed, or even in the hotel room, for that matter. Mike Hugeman had taken him up the fire escape to the roof of the hotel. Somewhat maliciously, the massive muscle-whore dangled him over the side, holding him only by his right wrist, like a small child would carelessly carry around a beaten-up old teddy. Beneath him was a twelve story drop that would surely kill him were the Hugeman to let go. “What are you doing to me?” Fear had caused Ken to urinate but thank goodness nothing else came out of him. This didn’t make sense. Why had Mike taken him up to the roof of the hotel? What had Ken done to deserve such a fate? The giant muscleman got to the point somewhat gruffly. “Why do you have an UltraZen business card in your wallet?” In the hands of the Hugeman, Ken Preston hardly weighed anything at all. He leaned out over the edge as far as he could extend his bull-strong arm, causing Ken to kick and dance in mid-air as he tried desperately to get closer to the roof. “I don’t... don’t know what that is, Mike. Puh-pleeeese, let me back in. I’ll pay you more money, I swear. I’ll cash in my college fund.... just please let me...” “That wasn’t the answer I expected, you little bastard. Shit, I think my fingers are losing’ their grip.” Mike feigned a worried look as he pretended to lose hold of the terrified teen. Then, ever so audaciously, Mike ripped off his spandex shorts, causing his dick to spring forth like a striking rattle snake. It instantly grew super-hard and began to ooze copious amounts of precum. He brought Ken in a bit, flipped him around and rammed his ass with his dick, but only halfway along its length. Then he stood perched on the edge of the roof, so that Ken was now once again dangling, held in place by the power of the Hugeman’s cock alone. “Look, mama, no hands,” Mike goofed, and imagined his dick growing bigger and bigger whilst impaling Ken and pushing him ever further from the edge of the roof. To emphasize just how in-control he was of this situation, Mike shot a massive bicep pose, cranking up his guns from their cold size of 32 inches around, to a staggering 42 inches. Whilst Ken quaked in fear on the end of his monster dick, the Hugeman kissed each of his biceps, flexing them harder and harder, forcing more and more blood to distend his veins, bulging them outwards like thick, ropy cables. “Pity you can’t see this from your position, twinkster. You’re missing one hell of a show,” Mike boasted, marveling at how monstrously huge and powerful his guns were becoming. Every day it seemed that he’d grown a little. He was constantly in awe of just how massive he was. But he was never satisfied with his gains. He wanted more and more size, strength, incredible beauty, and unbeatable power. He began to contract the muscles in his groin, causing his dick to bob upwards, still with the terrified young man impaled on it. “Hey this is a great workout for my dick muscles. You must weigh about one-fifty. Hell, I could perch two more of you on my hot super-cock, and still bounce it upwards. I’m just so goddam fucking huge and powerful. I’m so ultra-fucking-gorgeous. But I don’t like to be fucked with. I won’t ask you again, what the fuck is an UltraZen card doing in your wallet?” Sobbing fitfully, Ken was as truthful as he could be. “It’s my dad’s wallet... his spare one. I luh-lost my own a while buh-back... so he gave me his one. It muh-must be his cuh-card.” In the street below, a curious crowd had begun to gather. The Hugeman considered what Ken said, and after a minute decided to let him in. He placed the crying birthday boy down on the rooftop and stood towering over him, his body heaving with power in every sinew and fiber that made him so amazing. He flared his lats somewhat threateningly, but in truth posing helped him to think clearly. “Hmm, you could be telling the truth. You seem honest enough. But if your father works for those crooked bastards then I’m going to fuck him harder than I fucked you.” It was a vow which Mike promised to keep. He went to his kit bag and pulled out a spare pair of shorts which he quickly put on. They were grey in color and immediately a precum stain formed in them, but Mike didn’t care. He was just minutes away from causing so many guys in the locker room of Joel’s Gym on Church St to make with their own precum. “I hardly see my dad, ‘cos he’s always working. I think they may be clients of his. He’s in advertising. That’s all I know, Mike. I swear.” Ken was still crying. Mike suddenly felt bad. He pulled a clean towel out of his bag and gave it to Ken to dry his tears with. “Sorry about that. I guess I got carried away. UltraZen tried to recruit me into their organization a couple of years back. They offered me a free health assessment and free membership to their ultra-modern super-gym. But all they really wanted was a sample of my tissue to experiment with. They think I’m some kind of mutant, ‘cos I can grow so big. A mutant, can you fucking believe it?” Ken now understood why the Hugeman had flown off the handle. But the experience still had him rattled. “For what it’s worth, I wasn’t gonna drop you, twinkster. And even if I had, I could easily have leaped down to ground-level to catch you before you hit the concrete.” Smiling the most beautiful smile Ken had ever seen on any man, actor, supermodel, athlete or bodybuilder, Mike did a side chest pose and hefted up his medicine ball-sized pectorals, beefing them up to super-striated status. His chin immediately became lost in the meat of his upper pecs, creating the illusion that his head was about to be devoured by his muscle-tits. He couldn’t wait to inflate these babies through further workouts. He really was obsessed with his bodybuilding and obsessed with himself. “I deserve a free session for what you did, Mike. It was cruel of you.” Fear and upset rapidly began to give way to anger. Ken had every right to be angry. Mike thought about this. He guessed the kid was right. He dug into his bag to return his five hundred bucks. “No – keep the money. I meant another session, on the house, of course. Or I’ll tell the cops what you did to me.” “Hmmm, Hugeman in the State Pen for attempted murder. Lots of jailhouse ass for me to pound. Communal showers and I heard they’ve got one of the best gymnasiums in the state. I could get really fucking HUGE in jail, not that any cell could hold me.” Mike scratched his gorgeous stubbly chin as his mind set off to explore such a fantasy. In jail he could be worshipped far more intensively than in normal life. But on the other hand, he’d miss his mama’s pasta. Nah, it was best to keep on the right side of the law. “Blackmail doesn’t suit you, twinkster. But you’ve got yourself a deal. One free session it is. But not right now, ‘cos I have to get to the gym to beef up further. You can come by my place tonight at 9pm. I live at Pinewood Heights on Reginald and Main, Apartment 12, on the top floor. I promise not to dangle you from my balcony. I usually do webcam hulk-outs at that time, but tonight, for you, I’ll make an exception.” That said, the Hugeman leaped into the air and out from the edge of the rooftop. In a single bound he was across to the adjacent building, coming down heavily with a mighty stomp powerful enough to loosen every tile on the ceiling of the rooms below. He chuckled to himself, delighting at how huge and hulking he was. Suddenly the unexpected happened. The force of his connection with the second rooftop was enough to jar the body of the peeping Tom who’d been observing his antics through binoculars. The guy was dressed in combat fatigues, but he seemed too fat to be a real soldier. He staggered drunk-fashion out from behind an extractor fan assembly and puked up his McDonald’s lunch all over his boots. “What the fuck? Were you spying on me you fat fucking pervert? I’ll break you in half for that. The Hugeman never gives it away for nothing.” Fuming, Mike snatched the binoculars from the peeping Tom and crushed them into tiny bits of broken glass, metal, and plastic. He felt like ripping out the extractor fan unit and using it to beat the living crap out of the fatty. He was strong enough to do it, too. He thought about the prison fantasy again. “Puh-please... don’t hurt me,” the slob in camouflage pleaded. On a hot day like this the smell of expelled stomach acids soon became unbearable. Mike wasn’t hanging around. He was going to charge this pervert for the privilege of watching him perform on the twinkster, and so he grabbed him by the scruff of his fatigues and searched through his pockets for a wallet. He found it without any trouble. It bore the motif of UltraZen. Mike’s blood began to boil. He flared red in the face and puffed himself up to a massively muscular rage. He soon forced a confession out of the peeping Tom, whose name turned out to be Lenny Simmons. Mike listened to everything he had to say: “They hired me to watch the boy. I slipped the business card into his wallet when he dropped it at McDonald’s before meeting you. It was meant to get your attention. After the kid left the hotel I was to take him out with a tranquilizer dart and drive him to an abandoned warehouse at the docks – unit 108. There the kid would have your jizz extracted from him. What they do with it after that is none of my beeswax” Mike needed to flex while he thought about this. He pushed out a crab pose that caused his muscles to striate massively, bunching together with almost electrical ferocity. Like the comic book Hulk, anger seemed to inflate Mike lately, something he was curious about. If he could make an actual ability of this, then he could will himself far huger whenever it pleased him to. He was getting turned on, too, and his second pair of shorts began to part at the seams as his cock, once again, stood to attention. The wet bulge inflating in his crotch was enormous. Simmons couldn’t take his eyes off it. He wasn’t gay but his contact at UltraZen had given him a dossier on Hugeman, and the gigantic bodybuilder had fucked straight guys before, just because it suited him to. The shorts would not withstand a full erection, not when he was this angry, boiling blood surging through every last inch of him. “Get the fuck off this rooftop, Simmons. And don’t contact UltraZen under any circumstances. Your driver’s license was in your wallet, so I know where you live. Think I’ll be holding on to that for insurance. I’m going to pay a visit to that warehouse. If you warn them I’m coming, I’ll pound that house of yours into rubble, with you in it. Got that?” When the Hugeman spoke, he had to be heeded. Simmons, his fat lips blubbering, hastily made an exit. Mike set off towards the Stillbrook docks, his shorts just about managing to keep his junk in place. It had been a long time since he’d been this angry about something. The word “UltraZen” was enough to drive him into an indignant frenzy. What further enraged him was that he might miss his workout for the day. And for that he was going to make UltraZen pay dearly. Episode 3 For a henchman, Artie Pimms asked way too many questions. UltraZen’s Arkadian Stoat tugged at his electrically air-conditioned black mackintosh and tried to remain calm and sane. In truth, he was failing at keeping Pimms from grating on his nerves. If something interesting didn’t happen in the next 60 seconds, he was going to have to cause a public nuisance, simply to keep from going around the bend. Pimms shifted nervously from one foot to the other, surveying his surroundings with an almost pathological level of suspicion. It was abandoned, here at the docks, the perfect place for UltraZen to spring its trap. “Do you think it was a good idea having Lenny place the card in the kid’s wallet, boss?” It was Pimms’ umpteenth question in several minutes. Stoat wanted to kill the obsequious troll in man’s clothing. How in all the cosmos did these “inbreeds” make it onto the company payroll anyway? The mind just boggled. “For the third time, already, I planned it this way, Pimms. The Hugeman has a short fuse and hates all things UltraZen. How else could I get him to come here? Simmons is about as stealthy as a rhino with whooping cough. He’s almost as bad as you for messing things up. Stillbrook’s arrogant muscle whore will be here, and soon. I guarantee it. Now do me a favor and check your weapon. You may need it. And do it quietly!” Stoat adjusted the settings on the electro-blaster he carried with him, making sure it was set for maximum output. He would only get one shot at this. The only way to stop a man as huge and powerful as Mike Hugeman was with an electro-static force-field that could jolt even the most superhuman nervous system into complete but totally reversible shutdown. Positioned out of sight, keeping to the gloom cast by the shadows of some empty packing crates within the spacious sprawl of the virtually empty Warehouse 108, Mike Hugeman would have to possess x-ray vision to notice his adversaries before they noticed him. Stoat silently prayed to St Norris (the Patron Saint of B-List Bastards) that this wasn’t the case. Within minutes there was a loud, thunderous sound of something heavy hitting the concrete outside. Nearby car alarms sounded as the impact set them off. Young ladies screamed in terror, but then seeing it was the Hugeman, began to get moist for him and wish he wasn’t gay, oh and er... yeah... a couple of dogs barked or something. The Hugeman was really pissed off as he tore through the docklands looking for Unit 108. This was causing him to miss his workout. He got madder and madder, and this seemed to make him get a little bigger, which wasn’t a bad thing, he reckoned. But his shorts were about to disintegrate from the immense pressure his inflating glutes and erecting dick caused by pushing outward in opposite directions. When he found Unit 108, he smashed through the large slide-doors, pulverizing metal and wood and whatever else the fucking things were made of, the force of which made him totally lose his shorts. He didn’t care. Looking down at his massive whale-dick excited and pleased him. But he snorted in a rising rage, thinking that it wouldn’t get to be glorified in the gym today, if the day’s events kept causing him to get sidetracked. “Come out from hiding, you UltraZen bastards,” he boomed, his gargantuan roar powered by an incredible set of lungs. He was getting stronger and stronger. He could feel his body bulging all over. He had to capitalize on this effect, but also clear his head to think clearly. When silence returned to the warehouse’s echoed interior, Hugeman flexed, sweet fuck did he flex, greater than he ever flexed before. He squatted down a little, bending his legs at the knees, so that most of his weight was carried by his shimmering quads. He crabbed down into a most-muscular pose, squeezing his balled fists so tight, he could compress coals into diamonds had he been holding them. This incredible pressure, aided by a snarl that added deep russet tones to his cheeks, sent a shockwave of flexing, bulging superpower throughout his exceptional system. Energy crackled in pulses along his body’s veined super-highway, energizing his circulatory system to hulk up into overdrive. Massive, thick cords pushed out of a 22-inch neck. His body exploded into hyper-muscular relief, with extra inches popping out everywhere, his weight increasing significantly. He couldn’t wait to get this business over with so that he could beat all his lifting records over at Joel’s Gym, with a full retinue of horny, awe-stricken, paying worshippers gathered around him, just the way he liked it. He would have it no other way. He posed and flexed, flexing huger still, and posed until he could think more clearly. He pounded his granite fists together, sending further pulses of shocking power throughout. Growling and snarling – gruffly lauding his bodybuilding superiority with an exceptional nod to superior masculinity – Mike screamed the place down as his glistening, colossal physique bulged more immensely than ever, muscles bulking up so fast, his skin stretched almost to the point of sheer translucence. His definition was mesmerizing. His hulking pecs widened and deepened, and when he bounced them, it took slightly more effort on his part, the mass of the pec-bellies at their greatest so far, so that their momentum seemed more gradual, but no less rhythmic. This pleased him very much, and his hard-on raged with greater impunity. “My God,” Arkadian Stoat gasped from behind the vantage point of crates, then cursing himself for uttering a sound. He wasn’t gay, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate just how much larger Mike Hugeman had become since last their paths crossed. He had failed, before, to secure the genetic samples he craved in order to experiment with Mike’s unique muscle-building properties. UltraZen thrived on defense contracts. Should they patent an elite super-soldier for sale to the highest bidder, they could become a major world power in their own right. Hugeman was the key to mastering this design. And Stoat, as head researcher for UltraZen Industries, was under a lot of pressure to reel in his prize catch. Today he vowed not to fail. Luckily the Hugeman hadn’t heard him make a sound, so caught up was Mike in his flexing and muscle-gaining. With an enormously delta-shaped back bouncing rays of glorious sunlight back through the skylight through which they came, Mike was oblivious to the stealthy, snake-like advances of Stoat, as he carefully eased his way closer to his quarry, the electro-blaster primed and ready to be fired. Stoat would only have one shot at this. He signaled with a nod for Pimms to ready the overhead net conductor. It would fire from a cylinder high above the Hugeman, something that had failed to catch his eye, fortunately for Stoat. So far things were going by the numbers. But still, caution was the only card to play. Mike was overwhelmed by his flexing, and the obsession he had with growing, coupled with the rising strength he felt surging in him. His balls swelled with jizz, and he would have to expend it soon before frustration got the better of him. He began to stroke his huge whale-dick, completely awed that it seemed, now, to be at least an inch and a half longer than it had been earlier, back in the hotel room with Ken Preston. Saint Norris’s Ghost, Stoat mentally gasped, not expecting to get a full sex show from the biggest muscle behemoth the world has ever seen. He was an out and out heterosexual, but if that was the case, why did Stoat feel the front of his trousers getting tight? No, this cannot be. This fucker cannot be turning me gay, he thought, but then lost the run of himself and said the last bit aloud: “I won’t allow it!!!” Hearing this caused the Hugeman to turn around like a whirlwind, just as his cannon dick was about to release its salty torrent. Several life-changing things happened in the space of one and a half seconds. The force of Mike’s massive discharge spewed forth with the pressure of a fire extinguisher, blasting into Stoat across a distance of about twenty feet. Gripped momentarily by his most powerful self-induced orgasm ever, Hugeman was temporarily paralyzed, but that did not matter, for the blast of his jizz knocked Stoat off his feet, sending him sprawling, just as Pimms pressed a button on his remote control, blowing the cylinder above both Hugeman and UltraZen’s head researcher. Stoat fired the ultra-blaster, but something went terribly wrong. Coils of Tesla-like energy arced into the torrent of cum that existed briefly between Hugeman and Stoat, creating a brief circuit through which the gun overloaded. The connection was only a fraction of a second in duration, but the conductor net fell over them both, holding in the charge for a little longer. Dazed and confused, Hugeman rolled around in the net and soon became trapped. Like an idiot, Pimms sprang to help his boss, reaching out to grab his arm where it stuck out from a gap in the net. Stoat writhed in agony as energy danced impishly across his suffering but scrawny frame. As soon as Pimms touched his hand, he absorbed most of the energy, which now siphoned off into him. He was knocked back into the packing crates, smashing through them. He screamed for all of his worth as anomalous energies scorched him... reshaped and rewrote him. Likewise, Stoat was also rewritten to a certain extent. This was a day that would live in infamy, no doubt about it. When the lightning show eventually ended, Mike found the strength to tear himself free of the confining net. He felt weak and he staggered to his feet, his dick now limp and pendulous as it swung from his movements. “Am I... smaller? Oh, please God, please no.” He cleared his head and rubbed his eyes to get them into sharp focus. He looked down at himself... well, his gaze got as far as his pecs and would go no further, for his muscle rack prevented it, it was so bloated and huge. He flexed his forearms and bis, squeezing his balled fists to crank up the flexing to its fullest. He breathed a sigh of relief, for he hadn’t shrunk at all, despite the sapping of his strength. In fact, he thought he might be even bigger. Thinking this quickly energized him and lengthened his dick to a semi-flaccid state. Still a bit groggy from whatever it was his assailant had shot him with, Mike turned to look down at the living mess caught in the net. At first he didn’t recognize the charred, wizened man. Then, as he studied the sooty face a little further: “Arkadian fucking Stoat. I should have known you’d be behind this,” the Hugeman growled. Stoat just moaned something incomprehensible but appealed to the Hugeman to be freed from the net. He poked an even bonier arm through the netting, hoping the giant above him would take pity on an injured scientist. Hugeman scowled and thought about pissing on the little runt. “Puh-please have pity on me, Hugeman. You can see I’m beaten, finished. I know when I’m licked. At least help me to my feet so that I can check on poor Artie. I think he took the worst of it.” Mike thought it over and bounced his pecs so as to clear some space in his head. Maybe UltraZen would leave him alone, now that Stoat had seen the new, bigger, and more powerful Hugeman. They simply couldn’t beat him. Stoat looked old, broken down, emaciated. He was no threat to the Hugeman, Mike decided. And so, he extended a huge hand downwards, offering it reluctantly to Stoat. When Stoat touched Mike’s hand, he felt a rush like no other. Although his body didn’t change shape or size, he leeched off a great-deal of Mike’s incredible power. Mike, towering above the scientist, felt his legs turn to jelly, weakening to the point of being unable to stand under his own power. In contrast, Stoat snapped himself to a standing position in a trice, almost squeezing the life out of the Hugeman. Instincts that were new to the older man coursed through him, now, and with the merest tug of his arm, wrenched the Hugeman into the air, with force enough to expel him upwards, higher, and higher. He crashed out through the roof of the warehouse, soaring ever higher into the summer sky. Stoat watched it happen, marveling at what he had just done. But how could this be? He decided there was time for analysis later. For now, he just enjoyed the worried squeal from Hugeman, gradually fading as distance claimed him. “Sto...aaaaaa...aaaaat!!!!!!!!!!” “No, dear boy, from now on I won’t be going by that name. Oh no...” He looked at his burnt hands and marveled, wonderingly, at the crackling, residual static charge that arced between his clawed fingers, energy that seemed to leech the power out of the most powerful man on the planet. Stoat took a new name and shouted it aloud: “From now on... I will be called... Man Handler!!!!!” To be continued . . .
  5. armwreslr

    The Kid Freak (Part 6 Added)

    This is my first story. I intend on expanding it or continuing it. Let me know your thoughts. THE KID FREAK Oliver is just entering 12th grade, when he starts to notice some changes happening to him. Oliver had always been a tall, skinny, geeky kid with dark hair and green eyes. His mother is a Chemistry professor at a local college. She always encouraged her son to study, get good grades and perhaps be a professor one day. When Oliver wanted to play sports, she generally discouraged it. It’s the beginning of 12th grade and there’s a party at Candy Johnson’s house. Candy is a popular girl because she’s not just beautiful, she’s smart as well. Her parties always attracted the jocks and the nerds, a rare mix. Oliver is hanging with a couple of his World of Warcraft buddies, when an arm wrestling match breaks out between a couple of the big jocks at the kitchen table, Big Mike, from Oliver’s high school, and Brock, from a rival high school. They were both shirtless. Big Mike is 6’ tall, 230 lbs, but he’s not lean. He’s got brown hair and a scruffy face. He’s pretty thick. Brock is 6’1” tall and weighs 210 lbs with blonde hair and blue eyes but is pretty lean. The match starts, and Oliver is mesmerized by the test of strength. Both guys have pretty big arms, but Brock’s arms are more defined with a nice peak to his biceps. After about 30 seconds, Brock puts Big Mike down. “It’s getting easier to beat you, Fatty,” says Brock, with a big smile on his face. Big Mike responds, “The only reason you can beat me is because your father is a pro arm wrestler!” “He’s actually the Super Heavyweight World Champion!” says Brock. Brock catches Oliver staring at him. “You wanna arm wrestle, Nerd?” asks Brock. “Umm…no.” Oliver’s friends push him over to the kitchen table. Melvin, a nerdy, skinny kid with thick glasses, says, “C’mon Olly! You’re stronger than you think!” Brock puts his elbow on the table and wiggles his fingers. Oliver looks around at everyone staring and slowly puts his elbow on the table and locks hands with Brock. Big Mike starts them up. “Ready, Go!” Brock and Oliver start slow. Brock is smiling because he knows he has total control. He’s going against a skinny geek. Brock starts to put some real effort into putting Oliver down, but he’s noticing it’s much harder than expected. Big Mike says, “C’mon Brock, stop playin’! Put him down!” Brock pushes harder, but Oliver is not going down easily. Melvin pulls up the sleeve of Oliver’s oversized t-shirt to reveal a small, but ripped and peaked biceps. Big Mike’s eyes show surprise. “Holy shit! I didn’t expect that from Olly,” says Mike. Brock is sweating and now putting maximum effort into beating Oliver. After 45 seconds, he finally puts Oliver down. “Holy shit, Oliver! You’re a lot stronger than I expected. You put up a real fight!” exclaims Big Mike. Brock butts in, “No way, dude. You tired me out. I would destroy him fresh.” Big Mike pulls Oliver aside. “Have you ever lifted weights?” Oliver responds, “No. My mom never let me play any sports. She just wanted me to study.” “Bro, let me train you. You have incredible potential,” says Mike. “You really think so?” “Fuck yeah, I do. Somehow, you’ve built some muscle and strength from doing nothing. Let’s see what you can do if you actually lift weights and challenge yourself.” Oliver agrees to do it. *** Oliver shows up to the football gym with Brock, after all the players have left. “Let’s get some baseline measurements, Olly. Take your shirt off and jump on the scale.” Oliver looks around. “No one is here, buddy,” says Mike. Oliver takes off his shirt. “You’re quite skinny, but you don’t have an ounce of fat.” Oliver has a lot of veins showing as well. Oliver steps on the scale. “Okay, your height is 6 feet tall, and you weigh 155 pounds. Let’s measure your arm.” Oliver flexes his arm and a small, but ripped and peaked biceps appears. Mike measures it. “Wow, Olly, you’re not big, but your bicep is peaked and has great shape. It’s almost 15 inches.” “Really?” asks Oliver. “I swear. When you start to add size, I wouldn’t be surprised if you could be a serious bodybuilder.” “But I want to be strong, so people like Brock can’t pick on me or make fun of me anymore.” “Olly, there is something about you. I think you could be, not just a bodybuilder, but maybe one of the strongest bodybuilders.” “I’m just a nerd,” says Oliver. “I know it appears that way, but something in my gut is telling me different,” responds Mike. Mike takes a couple more measurements. Waist, 27 inches. Quads, 23 inches. Mike takes Oliver over to the bench press. “I’m going to test your strength in different exercises to get your baseline max in each exercise. Then we can measure again every few months.” Oliver agrees. After several warmup sets, Mike puts 155 lbs on the bar. “Anyone that can bench press their bodyweight for 10 reps is considered to be in good shape.” Oliver takes the bar and starts to bench press. He presses it 10 times very easily. “Yes! Too easy!” says Mike. Mike loads 225 lbs. Oliver bench presses it for 5 reps. Mike loads 275 lbs. Oliver bench presses it for 1 rep. “Holy shit, Olly! I knew it! I knew there was something about you.” Oliver is surprised. “Is this considered good?” “Bro, you’re skinny as fuck weighing 155 lbs, and you just bench pressed 275 lbs! And look at yourself in the mirror!” Oliver goes to the mirror. He’s never seen his muscles pumped. He’s sweaty and shiny. His chest is showing a little thickness and rips like he’s never seen before. Abs are shredded. He flexes his arms, and they appear bigger and more ripped. Oliver finishes the rest of the tests. He ended up squatting and deadlifting 305 lbs. He curled 120 lbs on a straight bar. Oliver and Mike agree to keep training together and to keep everything under wraps. No showing off, and Oliver will continue wearing baggy clothes to hide his gains until they decide to reveal them. *** Over the entire 12th grade and into the summer, Mike trained Oliver in secret, nearly every day. Mike and Oliver were shocked at Oliver’s gains. The main state college branch is in their hometown, and freshman year has started, so Mike takes down Oliver’s stats and tests his strength. Height, 6’. Weight, 180 lbs. Biceps, 18.5”. Waist, 28.5”. Quads, 25”. One rep maxes…Bench press, 495 lbs. Straight bar curls, 225 lbs. Squat, 725 lbs. Deadlift, 755 lbs. Oliver asks, “So, honestly, Mike, how do you think I’m doing?” Mike shakes his head in astonishment. “Bro, you’ve far exceeded my expectations. In one year, you look like a real competitive bodybuilder, but what’s blowing my mind, is your strength to weight ratio.” “What about it,” asks Oliver. “You totally don’t get it, do you,” asks Mike. Oliver has a blank stare. “Bro, at this rate, you’re going to be benching over 600 lbs in a few months and maybe you’ll be the lightest person to ever do that,” Mike exclaims. “Whoa…” Oliver is blown away. “I had no idea.” Mike nods his head. “Maybe it’s time for you to test your strength against others.” Oliver smiles. *** A couple months later, it’s time for Candy’s yearly party. Big Mike takes Oliver with him. It’s chilly outside, so Oliver wears a jacket. Oliver and Mike go into the house. It’s quite warm with all the kids partying. They go into the kitchen, where there are about 15 guys and girls. Mike grabs a beer for Oliver. Oliver takes a sip and looks at Mike. He processes the taste. He looks at Mike and smiles. “I never thought I would like beer, but it’s actually pretty good,” says Oliver. An hour goes by, and Mike and Oliver drink about 6 or 7 beers, when Oliver’s nerdy friends show up. “Oliver!” screams Melvin. A big smile comes across Oliver’s face. Melvin shakes Mike’s hand and then Oliver’s. “It’s been a year, since I’ve seen you, Olly,” says Melvin. “I know. Big Mike here has been training me, so I haven’t had a lot of time. I miss you guys.” “Yeah, I knew something was up, and when I just shook your hand, it’s so much bigger,” says Melvin. “Come here. I want you to feel something,” says Oliver. Mike smirks. Melvin comes in close. Oliver flexes his biceps by his side. His jacket arm fills out. Melvin’s eyes get big. He puts both hands around Oliver’s biceps. “Oh my God, Oliver!” Oliver’s heart rate increases with the exhilaration of his friend. “Your arms are massive and hard as a rock!” Oliver smiles and looks at Mike, who nods back at him. “I can’t wait to show you what I can do with this muscle,” says Oliver. Mike says, “It won’t be long. Look who showed up.” Brock walks into the kitchen with a couple friends, Jeff and Scott, both pretty big guys. He’s wearing a tank top and looking bigger and leaner than last year. Brock sees Big Mike. “Yo, Mike! You’re looking bigger than last year,” says Brock. “I am bigger,” replies Mike. “Not as big as this,” says Brock. Brock hits a double biceps shot showing off his 18-inch biceps. “That’s true, but your arms aren’t as big as Olly’s,” says Mike. “What? The nerd I beat last year?” asks Brock. “I wouldn’t call him that anymore, Brock. Show him, Olly.” Oliver steps forward and looks at Mike. Mike nods his head. Oliver is sweating profusely from wearing the jacket in the hot house. Oliver slowly unzippers his jacket. First a glimpse of his chest and then his abs. He removes his jacket and a few audible gasps come from some of the kids in the kitchen. “Oh my God,” says Melvin. Oliver is standing there, dripping sweat, pumped and totally ripped with thick slabs of muscle and not an ounce of fat. Even Mike is shocked. “Show the arm wrestler some real arms, Olly,” says Mike. Oliver hits a front double biceps shot. His arms are ripped with huge peaks, hitting 19.5” with a thick biceps vein. “You may be big, but I’ll destroy you in arm wrestling. I just won the state championship,” exclaims Brock. Mike says, “Let’s do this!” Brock takes a seat at the end of the long kitchen table as does Oliver. They put their elbows on the table and clasp hands. Some of the kids start recording video with their phones. Jeff starts them off. “Ready, Go!” Brock screams and hits first bringing Oliver’s arm down about halfway. Brock laughs. Brock leans in with his shoulder putting all his weight into it to put down Oliver. Mike screams, “C’mon Olly! Don’t let him intimidate you! You’re stronger than he is! Get angry!” Oliver screams and starts pulling hard. His biceps vein starts to pop thicker, and the cords of muscle of his biceps start to increase in prominence. Oliver bends his wrist activating his huge forearms, pumping bigger. Oliver’s biceps start to peak larger as he starts to move Brock’s arm up. “Jesus, look at the kid’s arm,” says one of the guys watching. Oliver pulls his arm almost back to the center position, when Brock grabs the side of the table with his free arm. He screams and using all his strength pulls Oliver back down to the halfway point again. Mike screams, “Brock is cheating grabbing onto the side of the table!” Jeff responds, “No way, bro. Arm wrestling tables have pegs on the side to grab, so it’s fair.” “Okay, but the table is too long for Olly to grab the side with his hand,” retorts Mike. Jeff just shrugs his shoulders. Melvin screams, “C’mon Olly. Show me that muscle, that strength!” Oliver grunts loud and pulls hard, but he can’t move Brock. “No way you can pull through this!” Brock laughs. Oliver screams and pulls with everything he has. At first, he doesn’t move, but after a few seconds, Oliver starts to move Brock’s arm back. Jeff screams, “No way! He’s doin’ it!” Scott adds, “Yeah, and he’s doing it with just one arm!” Oliver’s skin is paper-thin showing all the muscle fibers in his cannonball shoulder and his biceps and triceps, rippling. His biceps is peaking extremely high as he gets back to the center. Melvin says, “Jesus, his arm is more massive than Brock’s!” Brock gets angry and screams trying to pull Oliver back down, but Oliver is ready for it and holds him there. Brock tries several times but can’t break through. Oliver screams and starts to pull Brock down. Oliver’s abs and chest are completely shredded as those muscle groups help with the effort. Oliver’s biceps vein is pumping huge amounts of blood to the muscle as it continues overpowering Brock’s efforts. Brock screams and tries will all his strength to stop Oliver, but Oliver’s ripped muscle is just too strong. “Yeah,” screams Oliver as he continues pushing Brock’s arm down. Oliver stops his assault with Brock’s wrist three inches above the table. He looks at Brock. Oliver shifts his weight and arm position so that he’s just using his triceps. “Give me everything you have,” says Oliver. Brock screams, trying to pull with everything he has. Oliver’s triceps explodes as he takes everything Brock has and overpowers him, slowly pushing Brock’s arm down. Scott says, “Holy shit! The kid’s just using his triceps to overpower Brock! That’s just raw strength!” A few seconds later, Oliver pushes Brock’s arm to the table. Mike screams, “Yeah! You did it, Olly!” “You cheated! You had to have cheated,” said Brock. “Bullshit! I even let you use both hands,” screams Oliver. Brock looks around the room. “You all better delete those videos before I beat your asses.” One of the kids says, “Sorry man. I think that kid Joey was live on Instagram.” “I’m gonna kill him,” Brock screams. Brock runs out looking for Joey. Oliver turns to Mike, “I was acting.” “What,” asks Mike. Oliver responds, “Yeah, he was very easy to arm wrestle. I just screamed for effect.” Mike smiles. “Son of a bitch! You’re getting too strong!” Mike and Oliver grab another beer. All of a sudden, there is a commotion out back by the pool. Mike and Oliver walk out to see what’s going on. Everyone is surrounding some big man, trying to get autographs. “Holy shit! It’s Grip Master,” screams Mike. “Who’s that,” asks Oliver. “He’s a huge professional wrestler that beats his opponents in unbreakable wrestling holds,” Mike responds. “Candy’s older brother is friends with him,” he adds. As Mike and Oliver approach, some of the kids gasp as they see Oliver, pumped and sweaty from his arm wrestling match. Grip Master, who has a shaved head and is 6’5” tall and weighs 310 lbs, looks over to see what’s going on. Mike says, “Hey Grip Master! Huge fan! Could we get a pic with you?” Grip Master responds, “Well, shit, this guy is going to out angle me.” Mike says, “Naa, he’s a kid. He doesn’t even watch pro wrestling.” Grip Master asks, “Wait, he’s a kid?” “Yeah, he’s just 19 years old, but he’s a KID FREAK.” “How big are you,” asks Grip Master. “I’m 6 feet tall and weigh 205 lbs,” says Oliver. “You look much bigger than that,” says Grip Master. Mike adds, “What’s freaky is his strength. The kid bench pressed 585 lbs yesterday in his workout, and he did it easily.” Grip Master gives a skeptical look and says, “I seriously doubt that. I can bench press 680 lbs, and I’m much bigger than him. No one can bench press 585 lbs at his bodyweight.” Mike responds, “It’s true! If we had a bench press here, Olly could show you.” Mike thinks for a second. “What if he could break one of your unbreakable wrestling holds? Would you believe him if he could do that?” Mike asks. “Yeah, but we all know that’s impossible,” Grip Master responds. Oliver adds, “Please, let’s try it. I want to test my strength against you.” Grip Master starts to walk around Oliver, slowly, eyeing him up and down. Mike starts recording video on his phone. Grip Master slips behind Oliver and wraps his arms around Oliver’s torso from the back, putting him into a reverse bearhug, pinning his arms by his side. Oliver winces in pain. All the kids gather around to watch this test of strength. Some are recording it with their phones. Grip Master lifts Oliver off the ground, shaking him and crushing him. Oliver tries to pull his right arm up. His shoulder is ripped and pumped as he puts forth the effort. His arm starts to slowly slide up, especially will all the slippery sweat. He frees his right arm and starts on his left arm, pulling up. Grip Master is tightening his hold, but Oliver is strong enough with the slickness of his body to pull out his left arm. Now Grip Master tightens his hold enough to push the air out of Oliver’s lungs. He starts coughing. “C’mon Oliver! You have to break his grip,” screams Mike. “No way he can do that,” screams one of the kids. Oliver breaths in deep and screams, hitting a massive front double biceps shot. Gasps from the crowd as they are in awe of his massive and shredded physique. Grip Master’s hold is that he’s grabbing his right wrist with his left hand. Oliver crisscrosses his hands, grabbing Grip Master’s right fist with his right hand and grabbing Grip Master’s left hand with his left hand. Oliver screams and starts pulling apart as if he’s trying to bend the bars of a steel cage. His biceps explode in size with thick biceps veins pumping massive amounts of blood to his incredible ripped muscle. Every muscle fiber can be seen. His lats expand with the massive effort being put forth. Grip Master is holding the grip in place. “Nice try kid, but you’re going to have to try harder than that,” says Grip Master. Oliver screams and pulls harder. His biceps seem to be getting larger with the effort as well as his forearms. Sweat is dripping down his heaving chest and his chiseled abs. Grip Master seems to be starting to labor a bit. One of the kids says, “This kid is ripped as fuck, and he’s making Grip Master work!” Hearing that excites Oliver. Oliver screams again increasing the pressure. Grip Master starts to breath heavy. Another kid says, “This kid’s arms are huge.” “Yeah, and his strength is insane,” responds another. Oliver goes nuts after hearing that, screams and pulls with everything he has. His ripped biceps are nearly exploding with every muscle fiber showing through his paper-thin skin. His shoulders are huge, round and ripped. Abs are shredded. Oliver looks down at his own body, in awe of his incredible strength. He slowly starts to pull apart Grip Master’s unbreakable reverse bearhug. “Yeah,” Oliver screams as he feels himself overpower the strongest grip in professional wrestling. Oliver can hear the kids… “Impossible,” “No way,” “He’s breaking free!” Oliver slowly pulls his hands apart. Grip Master screams and, using his incredible chest strength, stops Oliver. Grip Master tries to close it back up, but somehow Oliver’s arms and shoulders begin to overpower Grip Master’s incredible chest strength, continuing to pull apart his arms. Grip Master falls backwards, staring at his hands in shock. He then looks back at Oliver as Oliver turns back around. Oliver screams and hits a front double biceps, with biceps that must be over 20 inches, pumped. Mike walks over to Oliver. “Believe it now, Grip Master,” asks Mike. “Hell yeah. I’ve never felt that much power before from anyone!” Oliver smiles. *** Another year goes by. Mike continues training Oliver in secret. Somehow Oliver continues making incredible gains in size and strength. Oliver’s latest stats are: Height, 6’. Bodyweight, 230 lbs. Biceps, 22 inches. Waist, 30 inches. Quads, 28 inches. Oliver’s strength level is incredible with a 685 lb bench press, 275 lb strict straight bar curl, 960 lb squat and a 980 lb deadlift. His bodyfat is as low as it has ever been. “How would you like to test your physique against bodybuilders and your strength against arm wrestlers, powerlifters and strongmen, all in the same day,” asks Mike. “Hell, yeah, but where can we do this?” “At the Arnold Classic this weekend. It’s two months away. Let’s see what kind of gains you can make until then.” responds Mike. Oliver says, “Let’s do it!” *** Mike and Oliver are in their hotel room at the Arnold Classic. They are lying in their beds resting. “You awake,” asks Oliver. “Yeah, what’s up?” “My mom hasn’t really spoken with me much about my gains. I thought it was weird because she never encouraged me to do any athletic or physical activity. It was always about studying. So, I asked her if she was shocked by my transformation,” says Oliver. “Okay,” responds Mike Oliver continues, “She says she wasn’t. She met my father in a one night stand. She never even got a picture with him, but he was an incredibly built man with muscles everywhere and no bodyfat. What made her lust for him was an incredible feat of strength he performed.” “What did he do?” “A car accident happened in front of a gym. He was training after hours. My mom was waiting for a taxi, when a car went out of control up onto the sidewalk and hit and ran over an old man. His leg was pinned under the tire. Without thinking, my father put his hands under the passenger side of the car, screamed and lifted the side of the car up. She pulled the old man out from under the car.” “Holy shit,” exclaims Mike. “Yeah, that night they went to dinner together and had sex. He left the country never to be seen or heard from again. She suspects that he was likely married and ashamed. She never told me all this because she didn’t want me to go down that path.” “Oh man. I’m really sorry to hear that.” “Here’s the interesting part. My mom asked how he got so strong. He told her the usual stuff about lifting heavy weights, but he also told her he had a rare genetic mutation that not only allowed for good muscle growth but allowed for the muscle to contract extremely hard. His nervous system was also somehow enhanced. A year after I was born, she got me tested, and I have the same condition as my father.” “Wow! This is incredible. I wonder what your limits are,” said Mike. “I don’t know, but I’m going to push myself to get stronger than any human alive,” exclaims Oliver. “Hell yeah!” Mike jumps out of bed. “Since we’re going to hit bodybuilding first, let’s put on your last coat of tan,” says Mike. Over the next hour, Mike paints Oliver’s skin with the bodybuilding posing tan making his skin dark, which shows the cuts and rips in Oliver’s muscle much better, especially under bright lights. Mike gives him a pair of posing trunks to wear under his clothes. Mike and Oliver enter the ballroom where they have bodybuilding. The press conference just ended, and they’re getting some photos and videos of Rob Coulson, last year’s Arnold Amateur champion, who is competing at the pro bodybuilding competition. He’s considered to have some of the best arms in bodybuilding. He’s a top contender to win. Off to the side of the stage, Mike has Oliver strip off his clothes. Mike quickly puts a light coating of oil on Oliver’s body. While Rob is hitting some poses, Oliver jumps up onto the stage from the ground, which grabs everyone’s attention, since the stage is very high. A couple whistles from the small crowd still there with photographers. Rob laughs at Oliver jumping up on stage. He hits a front double biceps shot. Oliver stands next to him and hits a front double biceps shot. A few audible gasps from the crowd. Oliver’s arms appear to be bigger than Rob’s arms. Not only that, he’s so ripped that you can see every muscle fiber in his arms, chest and completely shredded quads. Rob’s girlfriend screams for him to do his money shot, his back double biceps. So, Rob and Oliver turn around. They both hit their back double biceps shot. “Oh my God,” says Rob’s girlfriend. Oliver has him beat on his best shot, with bigger, more peaked arms, larger and more ripped shoulders and a much wider back. Oliver’s hamstrings are also bigger. One of the photographers says, “Who’s this kid? He’s destroying Rob.” Mike steps up and says, “His name is Oliver. He’s 20 years old and just getting into bodybuilding.” The photographer screams, “20? Are you fucking kidding me?” Someone screams, “Hit a most muscular shot!” Rob and Oliver turn around and both hit a most muscular crab shot. Oliver is matching Rob’s size from a muscular standpoint, but he’s much more shredded. Oliver’s chest is completely ripped with monster shoulders and traps. The biceps veins are nearly exploding they’re so thick. Abs are like steel armor. Oliver’s quad sweep is also wider and denser than Rob’s. “This kid could have won the show,” exclaims one photographer. Rob gets angry and walks off the stage. Mike gives the photographers contact info for Oliver. Oliver jumps off the stage and puts on a pair of shorts over his posing trunks. They exit the ballroom and go to the main wing of the expo where they have all the other events and activities. About as soon as they enter the expo hall, a bunch of people come over wanting pictures with Oliver. He’s shirtless and wearing shorts that show off his massive quads and calves. They make their way to the Animal Cage where they are starting a bench press competition. Mike registered Oliver for the contest. There are 10 competitors, most are big and fat, but powerful men. Oliver weighs in at 245 lbs and is easily the leanest competitor. The biggest and strongest competitor, nicknamed Grizzly, is 6’5” tall and weighs in at 330 lbs. Grizzly says, “Boy. You a bodybuilder? Cause you gonna git hurt here. This ain’t no play time in the gym. This is big boy weight.” He laughs. Everyone submits on written cards what their first lift will be. The announcer gets on the microphone. The announcer says, “Okay folks. We’re getting started with 405 pounds on the bar, and we’ll finish with Grizzly with 675 pounds…wait…there must be a mistake here. Who is Oliver? Oliver raises his hand and says, “Me sir!” Someone in the crowd says, “Holy shit! He’s jacked as fuck!” Announcer asks, “You’re opening with 685 pounds? Is that a mistake? Because no one has ever opened with that much weight, and honestly son, you don’t look like you could do something like that.” Oliver responds, “Yes sir. 685 pounds is my opener. I want to make sure I get the lift, so I can go heavier.” Announcer asks, “So this is easy for you?” Oliver says, “Yes sir.” Grizzly yells, “I smell bullshit! No one can beat me in bench press, especially not some bodybuilder!” The competition starts, and Oliver warms up. They get to Grizzly, and he presses 675 lbs, with a huge effort. The staff loads 685 lbs onto the bar. Oliver lays down on the bench. The crowd quiets down to watch. Oliver grabs the bar. Announcer asks, “You want a liftoff young man?” Oliver says, “No sir. I got this.” Oliver lifts the bar off the rack. He slowly lowers the weight and touches his chest, holding the bar there.” Judge says, “Press!” Oliver pushes the bar back with incredible power. It flies up. Judge says, “Rack it!” Oliver puts the bar back. He gets a good lift signal. He jumps up and hits a most muscular shot. He’s sweating profusely. The crowd goes wild. Grizzly throws down his belt. Everyone submits their lifts. Oliver is doing 720 lbs. Grizzly finds out and puts 725 lbs for himself. Fifteen minutes later, 720 lbs is loaded onto the bar. Oliver sits on the end of the bench and flexes his pecs several times. His chest is shredded and sweaty. Mike comes over to give him a liftoff. Mike says, “You got this Olly. Let’s put this guy out of his misery.” Oliver screams, “Hell yeah!” He lays on the bench. He nods his head for Mike to give the liftoff. He lowers the bar and holds it on his chest. Judge says, “Press!” Oliver screams and presses the bar extremely hard. The bar goes up steadily and fairly quickly. Judge says, “Rack!” Oliver racks it and get a good lift signal. He jumps up and hits a double biceps shot. Someone from the crowd, “Jesus, this kid is an animal.” Grizzly is up. 725 lbs is loaded onto the bar. He sits down. He sniffs a bottle of smelling salts, throws it aside and screams. He lays down. His spotter gives him a liftoff. He lowers the bar and stops on his chest. Judge says, “Press!” Grizzy screams and pushes. The bar goes up very slowly. It gets stuck halfway up, but after a couple seconds, he screams and is able to slowly push through to a lockout. Judge says, “Rack!” Grizzy racks it. He sits up, and his nose is bleeding. He stands up and then stumbles. A couple staff help him to his chair. Everyone is submitting final lifts, except for Grizzy. He’s going to stick with his last lift of 725 lbs. Mike says, “That last lift went up really fast. I don’t know…you think you could do 750, or is that just too much?” Oliver thinks for a couple seconds and says, “Fuck it! Let’s do it!” After 15 minutes, it’s Oliver’s turn. 750 lbs is loaded onto the bar. Announcer says, “This kid has already broken records today. Now he’s going for 750 lbs, more than three times his bodyweight. He’s completely ripped up, and he’s only 20 years old!” The crowd cheers. Oliver sits on the bench, flexing his chest and arms. He lays back and screams. Mike comes over and grabs the bar. Oliver nods his head for the liftoff. Mike does it and steps back. Oliver takes a deep breath and lowers the bar. He touches and holds the bar on his chest. The judge waits an extra seconds before giving the signal. Judge says, “Press!” Oliver screams and starts pressing. His chest is pumped and shredded. His triceps are popping out and ripped. The bar slowly goes up. It slows down near the halfway mark. Oliver screams again using his chest power to press the bar high and higher, until he finally locks out. Judge says, “Rack!” Oliver racks the bar. The good lift signal is given. The crowd erupts in cheers. Grizzly walks out. Oliver hits a huge most muscular shot. Mike comes over and gives Oliver a hug. Mike says, “Bro! I’m blown away!” “Me too man! I can’t believe it! It’s like nothing can stop me!” Mike says, “Maybe nothing or no one can!” They exit the cage and go onto the next event. Mike says, “I think you’re going to like this next event. It will really test your strength like nothing has before.” Mike and Oliver enter the Bending Arena. Oliver’s eyes light up. There are all kinds of things to bend here, including nails, thick bolts, tools, including wrenches. They have steel bars to bend like on World’s Strongest Man from the 1980s and 1990s. A big sign says… “WHOEVER BENDS THE THICKEST BAR TODAY, WINS A FREE SET OF CAPTAINS OF CRUSH GRIPPERS!” Mike and Oliver go over to the steel bars. Jake is managing the challenge. “Wow, you must be a bodybuilder,” says Jake. Oliver says, “Well, I…” “He’s really a power bodybuilder,” says Mike. Oliver smiles. Jake says, “Well, you’re in the right spot if you want to test you strength.” Oliver asks, “What are the Captains of Crush Grippers?” Jake breaks out all the grippers ranging from Captains of Crush (CoC) 1 all the way to a 4. Jake says, “They range in strength from level 1 to level 4. Only 5 people in the world have ever closed a number 4.” Oliver says, “I have to try that!” Jake says, “Okay big boy, let’s start you off with a number 2. Most bodybuilders can barely do that.” Oliver takes the number 2 and puts it in his hand. He closes it, and his forearms pump up. He closes it for reps. After he hits 20 reps, Jake stops him. Oliver says, “I’ll take the number 4 now.” “I don’t think you should jump up to it right away, but here you go.” A crowd starts to form to watch Oliver. Jake records video using his phone. Oliver places the number 4 gripper in his hand. He takes a couple deep breaths, screams and squeezes as hard as he can. He closes it. Jake screams, “Holy shit!” Oliver lets it open and closes it again. And again. Veins are snaking in his forearm pumping it close to 19 inches thick. And then he holds the gripper closed for 20 seconds. Jake screams, “Yeah! What a pump!” Mike says, “Bro, your forearm is massive!” Oliver flexes his forearm for the camera. Oliver says, “Let me bend some bars.” Jake says, “Normally I’d start someone with a 1/2” thick steel bar to try, but you’re much stronger than the guys that usually come over here. Here’s a 5/8” thick steel bar that’s 4 feet long.” Oliver grabs the bar and holds it at either end. Jake continues, “So before you try anything, let me tell you how to properly bend…Wait!” Oliver starts pushing on the bar, trying to bend it. Jake says, “Hold on man! You can’t bend it in front of your body like that. It’s impossible!” A guy from the crowd says, “Have you ever seen anyone so ripped?” Oliver screams. His chest and abdominals are shredded. His biceps are popping. Another scream and slowly the bar starts to bend. Jake says, “No way!” Oliver continues pouring his strength into bending the bar in front of his body. After a few seconds, the ends of the bar touch. Oliver drops the bar and hits a double biceps shot, screaming, “Yeah!” Jake says, “Holy shit! I did not expect that.” Mike asks, “What’s your thickest bar?” Jake responds, “Well, it’s called the Ultimate, and it’s not really meant to be bent.” Mike asks, “What do you mean?” Jake says, “Well, it’s 1 and 1/4 inch thick cold-rolled steel at 5 feet in long. It’s believed that no one can really bend it. That’s why there is a cash prize for anyone that can bend it just with their upper body and make the ends touch, wins $100,000. That’s just impossible.” Oliver’s eyes get big and says, “I gotta fuckin’ try it!” Jake says, “You can try it, but no one has even come close to making the tiniest of bends in the bar. It’s still perfectly straight.” Mike asks, “How quickly would Oliver get the money if he does it?” “It’s an instant bank transfer,” says Jake. Jake gives Oliver the bar and a thick bath towel. Jake says, “This time you won’t be able to bend it in front of your body.” “So, what do I do?” Jake responds, “Fold the towel and put it on your head for protection. Put the bar on top, using your head as a leverage point. Bend the bar down as far as you can, then put it behind your neck and bend it until the ends touch.” Oliver folds the towel and puts it on his head. The crowd is getting really big now. Oliver places the bar on top and grabs the ends of the bar with his hands. Mike screams, “You can do this Olly! No one has ever bent a bar this thick! You’re gonna do it in front of all these people, not as some fat strongman, but as a ripped-up power bodybuilder. No one has ever seen anything like this before! You can do it!” Oliver takes a couple deep breaths and screams. He pulls down hard, but the bar doesn’t budge. He takes a break. Jake says, “I told you bro. You can’t do it. No one can.” Oliver goes nuts and screams and pulls with everything he has. His biceps explode into huge ripped peaks. His lats flare out wider than ever. His abdominals contract as hard as they ever have before. At first, nothing happens, but after a few seconds, a squeal comes from the bar. The bar starts to slowly bend under Oliver’s strength. His lats are contracting so hard, you can see every muscle fiber. Oliver screams again pouring all of his strength into the task of bending the thickest steel ever bent by a human. The crowd starts talking… “Oh my God!” “He’s doing it!” “He’s fuckin’ ripped up!” “That’s just raw strength!” Jake is in complete awe of Oliver’s ripped strength. Jake says, “He’s bending the unbendable!” Oliver bends the bar halfway and stops for a second. He screams again and continues bending the bar until it’s about a 90-degree angle and can’t bend further on his head. He’s sweating profusely. He drops the bar behind his neck. Using his chest, he tries to crush the bar in, but it’s still a bit too wide for that. Oliver tilts the bar behind his neck, so that the end in his left hand is now down by his hip. The end of the bar in his right hand is above his head. Bracing the left end against his body, Oliver screams and pulls down on the bar with his right hand. Someone from the crowd says, “Jesus Christ! Look at the kid’s arm!” Oliver’s 22-inch right biceps explodes into ripped glory pulling the bar down, dripping sweat. His abs contracting hard to stabilize his core. Oliver screams again! The impossible to bend cold-rolled steel tries to resist, but Oliver’s biceps is just too strong, bending it more and more. “Yeah,” screams Oliver as he dominates the bar. Now the bar is at a 45-degree angle. Oliver centers the bar behind his neck, with his arms on both ends of the bar. Oliver screams and pushes the ends of the bar towards each other. His chest and abs are ripped to the bone. His chest is heaving and pumping blood as massive amounts of strength pass through to his hands. Oliver screaming and pushing slowly presses the ends of the bar towards each other. After several seconds, the ends touch. Jake, in utter disbelief, faints for a moment. Oliver lifts the bar from his neck and throws it to the ground. He hits a huge most muscular shot as the crowd cheers and then a huge front double biceps shot. Mike then hugs him, and Oliver hugs him back. People in the crowd come up to congratulate him and get pictures. Finally, Oliver gets a bank transfer from Jake’s company. Mike says, “It looks like we just have one more stop.” Oliver responds, “Arm wrestling!” Mike nods his head. Oliver adds, “You think Brock’s Dad, Titus, will accept my challenge?” “Well, he is the Super Heavyweight World Champion, so he may not take you too seriously. You’re only 20 years old, and arm wrestlers always think they can destroy bodybuilders. But, you do have some money that you can put up to sweeten the pot.” Oliver says, “Yes!” On the way to the arm wrestling competition, they stop to get some burgers and refuel. Oliver eats six double cheeseburgers and six orders of fries. They finally arrive at the arm wrestling contest. It doesn’t start for another 15 minutes. Mike speaks with the promoters to try to get Titus to take on Oliver. At first the promoters said no because Oliver hasn’t competed and earned a spot to challenge Titus. When Mike offered Titus $20,000 to take the match, he accepted. Announcer says, “It’s time to get started! Up first is a best of three supermatch between your current super heavyweight world champion, 6’3” tall, 350 pounds of solid mass, with 23-inch arms and 20-inch forearms…Titus!” Cheers from the crowd as Titus walks out. The announcer continues, “His challenger is a complete unknown but considers himself a power bodybuilder, 6’ tall weighing 245 pounds of completely ripped muscle, 22-inch arms and only 20 years old…Oliver! The usual audible gasps form the audience. Brock looks up in shock. Brock says, “No way! Oliver is challenging my Dad? Jesus, he really packed on some size.” Titus and Oliver both come to the table. Oliver asks for his arms to be measured since it’s been a couple months, and he still has a pump from the bar bending. The referee measures Oliver’s arm. The referee says, “It looks to be…22 and 3/4…wait…23 inches…matching Titus!” “Looks so much bigger than Titus,” says one guy from the crowd. His friend responds, “Yeah, cause he’s got a huge peak and the muscle is completely ripped up.” Oliver smiles. The referee measures his forearm. “The bodybuilder’s forearm is 19.5”, just under Titus!” Oliver smiles and nods his head. Titus says, “You think cause you have a little muscle you can challenge me? Kid, I have over 20 years of experience in arm wrestling. I know every technique and trick in the book, and I haven’t lost a match in over three years! No way you can beat this arm!” With that, Titus flexes his right arm to cheers in the crowd. Oliver responds, “I’m tired of your son bullying kids, so I’m going to teach you a lesson. I don’t need any arm wrestling techniques or tricks. I’m gonna beat you with raw strength!” Oliver hits a double biceps shot, totally ripped with a light coat of sweat for shine. The crowd starts talking… “That kid’s arms are bigger than Titus’!” “Have you ever seen someone so shredded?” Titus gets mad and slams his elbow on the pad. Oliver grips up and squeezes Titus’ hand. Titus tries to pull out, but Oliver’s grip is too strong. Finally, Oliver lets Titus slip out and re-grip. The referee starts the match. “Ready, Go!” Titus hits hard, but Oliver holds him. Titus hits harder and pulls Oliver’s arm down just a bit off center. The crowd doesn’t know how to react. “That kid is holding back Titus!” Titus screams and goes all out trying to pull down Oliver. Oliver does go down a little until Oliver screams and starts pulling with everything he has. He stops Titus and starts to pull Titus back up. Oliver’s arm is incredibly shredded showing every muscle fiber working. His chest is ripped and sweat is pouring off his body. “Yeah,” Oliver screams. Oliver gets their arms back to the center starting position. Brock screams, “Arm Lock! Dad, use your Arm Lock!” Titus shifts his weight and his arm position, essentially locking his arm into place, making it very difficult, if not impossible to move. Oliver is confused. He’s not sure how Titus is blocking him from pulling his arm down. “Yes, just hold him there, Dad! He’ll burn out soon,” screams Brock. Another grunt from Oliver, but he can’t move Titus. Titus smiles. “No one has ever broken through my Arm Lock, kid. Not even the strongest arm wrestlers,” says Titus. “I’m a power bodybuilder, and this ripped muscle is gonna bust through your Arm Lock.” Titus laughs. Oliver screams and pulls harder. His biceps seeming to pump larger, and his forearms expand with corded muscle trying to push through his paper-thin skin. Titus’ smile goes away. “This kid has some serious muscle,” says someone from the crowd. “Yeah, his biceps are really peaked, but I don’t know if he has the strength to pull through Titus’ Arm Lock. It’s impossible,” says his friend. Oliver hears this talk from the crowd. It gets him very excited. Oliver screams again and pulls with everything he has. His chest is shredded and pouring on the strength that can bench press well over 700 lbs. His biceps and forearms that curl nearly 300 lbs are increasing the pressure that no one else can create. “You can do it,” screams Mike. “This kid…I’ve never seen so much ripped muscle,” exclaims someone from the crowd. Oliver very slightly moves Titus’ arm. Titus’ eyes are wide, and his head is shaking with the effort to contain Oliver. “Fuck yeah,” screams Oliver. “Impossible,” says Brock. Oliver looks over at Brock. Brock is in shock. The crowd starts talking… “The kid bodybuilder…he’s doin’ it!” “That’s pure, raw strength!” Titus screams, trying to stop Oliver, and he does for a second, but the kid bodybuilder’s strength is building. His ripped muscle contracting harder. Oliver starts pushing through the Arm Lock with every muscle group engaged including his back with crazy striations, his biceps with impossible peaks and his chest just ripped to the bone with massive forearms at the lead. As Oliver is pulling Titus’ arm down, closer and closer to the pin pad, Titus does a King’s Move, dropping his body below the table and stretching out the arm to make it impossible to pin due to the angle of the arm. Brock screams, “Good move, Dad! Hold him there and burn him out!” Oliver continues pulling Titus’ arm, but it’s completely stuck. It’s even harder than his Arm Lock. After 10 seconds of pulling, Oliver isn’t making progress. Mike screams, “Olly, do a shoulder press! Stand up tall and use your shoulder and bodyweight to press his arm down!” Oliver stands up tall and starts pushing with just his triceps. He doesn’t lean over and use his shoulder and bodyweight. Titus is smiling. He’s in a good position. The King’s Move doesn’t use much energy. It’s all about leverage, angles and the arm’s natural straight arm end range. “No one can push through my King’s Move, kid! It’s ten times harder than my Arm Lock!” Oliver grunts loud and pushes hard. Titus’ arm is like hardened steel. It’s just not moving. “You can’t do it, Olly!,” screams Brock. Oliver screams and starts pushing with everything he has! His triceps shows every cross-striation. His shoulders are shredded. His biceps vein looks massive and mean. His chest is heaving with ripped abs and sweat pouring off him. Titus’ smile turns to gritting teeth. “If this kid’s ripped muscle pushes through Titus’ King’s Move, it will send me over the edge,” whispers a guy to his friend right near the table. This excites Oliver even more, somehow allowing him to push even harder. His ripped triceps start to very slowly move Titus’ arm towards the pin pad. Oliver looks down at the guy watching and sees his eyes getting bigger and the guy says, “Oh my God! He’s doing it!” The guy starts shaking. Oliver screams again, pushing more! His triceps is exploding. The crowd starts speaking again… “This kid’s strength is insane! He’s doing it with just his triceps!” “This kid bodybuilder is beating the strongest arm wrestler at his own sport!” “No! You can’t!” mutters Titus. A cracking sound starts to come from Titus’ arm. “Stop! You’re going to break his arm,” screams Brock. Oliver backs off. “Want to give up, so I can spare your arm,” Oliver asks. “I’ll never give up!” “Good, cause I wanna see how strong these triceps are,” yells Oliver. Oliver looks directly at Brock. He screams and pushes again. His ripped triceps is monstrously huge. Titus’ arm moves slightly. It’s getting stuck as the bones near the elbow start touching. Titus’ arm is nearly at the pin pad, but now it’s completely stuck. “You think he could break his arm,” someone asks from the crowd. “No man. I don’t think it’s possible,” replies another. Oliver gets excited and goes nuts! He screams, and his triceps responds somehow pushing harder. “Yeah, I’m gonna do it,” screams Oliver. Titus starts to scream. His arm starts to slightly bend under the strength of Oliver’s triceps. Oliver looks at Brock. Brock has his hands on his head in disbelief. Oliver screams again pushing as hard as he can with just his triceps strength. About three seconds later, a grinding sound and then…SNAP! Oliver breaks Titus’ arm. Titus’ hand hits the pin pad. He pulls his arm away grabbing it for support. Oliver slams his fist down onto the pad, crushing the pad and bending one of the thick steel supports holding the table up. He then hits a double biceps shot at Titus. Incredibly ripped biceps explode to over 24 inches with high peaks. Lats flare out like wings. Abs shredded. Sweat pouring off his body giving it a beautiful shine. Cheers and shock coming from the crowd. Mike gives Oliver a hug. “I knew you could do it, Olly,” says Mike. “I couldn’t have done all this without you, Big Mike,” responds Oliver. “Maybe you should call me, Little Mike, from now on.” They laugh. Brock runs over to his Dad and takes him away for medical attention. Someone from the crowd says, “Bro, you broke the table.” Oliver looks at it. There are four steel support bars that run from the base on the floor to the tabletop. One of them is bent inwards. Oliver bends down and grabs the bent support bar at the middle of the bend with his left hand. His other hand is on the tabletop for support. Oliver grunts and starts pulling. His biceps and forearm explode as does his lat. Very slowly, Oliver starts bending the support bar straight. “No way! This kid is bending fucking steel,” says one guy from the crowd. “Jesus, his arm strength is off the scale!” Oliver completely straightens the support bar. He then hits another double biceps shot at the crowd. The crowd cheers. The crowd comes over to Oliver for pictures and autographs. Oliver looks at Mike. “Let’s keep doing this shit! I want to see how strong I can get!” Mike responds, “Hell yeah kid!” THE END
  6. My humble submission and new obsession. It’s my first original work and heavily influence by all the talent that has submitted over the year. I’m hoping I get more parts going asap. Sorry if the formatting is a little wonky. Superman and the Cole Twins Part 1 Clark walked into the new-ish campus gym and let the smells of sweat and chlorine wash over him. It was late but that was the best time to “work out”. Peace and quiet. The smells were one thing but the sounds of conversations, rubber and metal clanking together on top of the heartbeats and footfalls of the other students were too distracting for his performance here. His physique had absorbed solar radiation for over 20 years and it showed. At 6’1” and 225 pounds, he was a big guy. If you passed him on the street you would swear he was a bodybuilder, leading to the problem of a secret identity. If Clark Kent was going to get around in the world, he needed an excuse for his muscular frame. During High School, he could claim that his physique came from a regimented schedule of farming responsibilities and a home gym. Clark had now been in college in Indiana a couple of years and early on decided, as cover, he would “lift weights” and go through other motions that physical specimens of his caliber, were expected to be doing. He had played some football in High School but because of his abilities he felt that it wasn’t fair in such a competitive setting. College was supposed to ease him into more of an independent life before the obligations of his abilities overrode any sort of personal life. “Clark, buddy!” boomed Dave Cole. “Want to work in with us?” Dave stood over the bench where his brother Butch was pressing a rapid set of what Clark could see was maybe 225 pounds. He had overheard them frequently calling such light weights as their “warm up weight”. “Hey Dave, hey Butch. Maybe later, need to change.” Clark let his eye linger a little on the brothers as he made his way to the locker room. Butch had sat up on the bench and was looking down at his pumped chest. As he was putting on his jock strap and shorts and t-shirt, his mind was on the twin brothers. They were both around 6’2” and what Clark could guess was maybe 230-240 pounds each. When Clark had started college, the brothers were a year older than him and maybe an inch shorter. Within the last two years, they had grown to the point where they were practically as tall as Clark and wide to the point where their shoulders literally looked like boulders. The striations on their chest muscles were always clearly visible through some chest hair and whatever shirt or tank top they chose for the day. They looked like they were in competition shape, year round. Clark had overheard them joke before about their “dick skin” look. They were right, the brothers looked like they were just completely ripped. His x-ray vision was seeing their body heat actually be a little higher than what you would think about a normal human. These guys were always looking to get bigger and stronger, working with such an incredible discipline that you couldn’t help admire their dedication. His own Kryptonian DNA absorbed pure sunlight and his muscles were pumped with straining energy from daily exposures. He had never given much thought as he grew up around human beings that he was different from them. But after high school and now college, he was doubtful that without some type of true Super-level resistance training his body would be ‘stuck’ at its current development for a while. Although being able to lift a mountain was more than enough consolation for such concerns. Heading back out onto the main floor, he started jumping some rope to act like he was warming up. His senses were getting a bit of a break as the gym was empty except for two strong, slow heartbeats. He looked up and around to see if maybe the brothers were close by but they were at the squat rack with an enormous amount of weight. These guys were barely even breaking a sweat with 525 pound squats. He watched Dave easily control the weight as his ass touched the floor and pause as he brought the bar back up to his full height. Pumping out a set of 15, Dave racked the weight and Butch took his place. His massive quads and calves exploding as he performed a set as equally impressive as Dave’s. The guys were decked in string tank tops and a pair of shorts that were loose enough around their upper legs but tight enough when their asses went all the way to the floor in a squat that you could see the straps of their jocks. Dave had pulled one leg of his shorts up to his crotch and was flexing his massive legs in the mirror in front of him. When he looked up from his own reflection, he caught Clark staring. With a smirk, he pulled the other side of the shorts up as well against his huge crotch and flexed both quads and calves into what appeared to be diamond hard muscle, snaked with large veins over top. Butch racked his weight back and stood beside Dave, did the same thing and started comparing his massive legs to his brother’s. “You going to jump rope all day or you going to do some damage?” Butch smiled in the mirror at Clark, bunching up his shorts against his large crotch and shaking a leg and then flexing it to a full stop. “Man you guys are just huge. What’s your secret?” Clark walked over to the squat rack and put one hand on the cold metal plates. “Eat, eat, eat. Gotta feed these muscles,” Dave grinned as he swept both arms in a circular motion flexing, bending forward into a most muscular pose to where his traps exploded on either side of his huge veiny neck. Clark’s mouth must have dropped open because the brothers both chuckled. “Sorry, don’t mean to gawk. You guys are goals, you know that right?” With smiles on their faces, Dave playfully punched Butch in the pec. It didn’t move, it was like stone. The guys didn’t think of respecting physical space when they were talking about bodybuilding, they would show you the different muscle groups located where on your body or theirs; which muscles would be the focus of whatever exercise they were performing. Dave stepped over to Clark and pulled a side of his own shorts back up, “flex what you got buddy!” Caught up in the moment, Clark did the same, pulled a side of his shorts up and flexed his leg hard. “Jesus man, looking big!” Butch walked over to the other side of Clark and did the same, comparing the brother’s legs to his Kryptonian muscle. Before he could let his shorts fall back, Dave put a hand on Clark’s hairy leg, near the top of his quad and squeezed hard. Clark grinned and flexed a little harder, then noticed Dave’s hand was squeezing his leg. How was that possible? His leg was supposed to be like steel but it was clearly giving way under Dave’s strong grip. “You need a pump big guy” Butch said as the three of them looked back to the squat rack. “I think I’m going to have to drop a little of that weight before I get under it. You guys are on another level, y’know? “Hell buddy, you need to train with us every day. You could dwarf us, if we packed it on ya,” Butch said, looking Clark up and down. “Butch, leave the kid alone. Do you really want more competition?” Dave brought both arms up in front of him into a double bicep pose, the veins on top of the dense muscle fibers looking like raised rivers of power over and around the muscles. The biceps exploded from thick slabs on his arms to a peak that Clark shook his head at. “Fuck that Dave, keep testing me” Butch said with a grin as he brought both arms up on either side of his head, standing where he was holding one arm in front of Dave’s. Clark got swept up into the moment and hiked his straining sleeves up on his t-shirt, and copied the two men. Looking from his own mountain peak of striated bicep to theirs, both brothers leaned over in front of him and began their own comparisons. “It’s gotta be steroids, right, man?” Dave grinned at Clark. Keeping one arm up, he reached with the other and got ahold of Clark’s right bicep peak. Almost at the same time, Butch reached up with one hand and grabbed Clark’s left. As they both felt Clark’s bicep, his steel muscle was giving way to their grips, probing of his muscle density. “Ow, guys! You have got a helluva grip. Remind me never to piss you off.” Clark pulled away from the brothers who looked at each other and laughed. Butch slapped Clark on the back, almost knocking him forward, “Dude, we’re pussycats.” He winked as he adjusted himself with his other hand. Dave took some weight off the squat bar, “I think this is what you were working with last time” as he loaded about 360 pounds on the bar. “Thanks, I’m definitely not on you guys’ level. How much was that weight you were squatting Butch? A VW Bug?” “I wish Clark. That’s some Superman level shit right there. We’re going to go finish out with the Leg Press machine and some calf raises. Oh and abs.” Butch raised the bottom of his tank up about to his plated chest muscles. His eight pack was cut and solid, covered with large veins almost seeing to want to burst through the skin containing them. His adonis belt was cut and pointing down toward the heavy bulge below. It was completely shave, with bit of the trimmed chest hair just above. Like instinct, he put his left fist on that hip and tilted his long torso slightly to one side and raised the other arm, flexing it as if an offering to the gods. Clark smiled, “Mr. Universe, right here my friends…” he was looking around the empty room, trying to rally the crowd, pointing to Butch. Realizing Dave was right behind him, Clark turned to see him pressing the entire calf raise rack, with a 45 pound plate chained to his waist. Up and down, up and down. Over and over, veins straining over solid muscled, pumping them to an incredible size. At some point Clark realized he wasn’t counting the reps and couldn’t remember the last time he did, maybe around 45? Dave stopped, unhooking his belt and lowered the plate to the ground with a gentle thud. “I’m about done, Butch too, probably. Gonna hit the treadmill for a little cardio and then I think we’re doing the steam room if it’s still open. It can be pretty therapeutic for releasing toxins from your body and loosening muscles up after a good pump.” Dave grinned. “Gotta stay loose, right?” Clark felt his cheeks getting warm… was he blushing? What the hell is Superman doing blushing? “How can I refuse?” Turning back to the squat rack with a sheepish grin, Clark squared up and started squatting the bar, his 365 pounds, not going quite to the bottom and feigning a little effort throughout. In between sets he could see Butch and Dave, side by side on treadmills. Running. You would think these two large specimens would pound the treadmills at the pace they were going but no it was just an even, light ‘thud’. Every muscle in their body was rigid but pliable and moving at the same time. There was no flopping of large muscles, it was magnificent. Clark realized he was getting hard. He turned away and pulled at his shorts to try and reposition and hide his bulge. He sat at the leg extension facing away from the treadmills. Ok, he had to come to grips with something. These guys were sex incarnate. He and Lana fooled around in High School a little but he couldn’t truly have sex with her. He wouldn’t take that chance. When his powers fully manifested and he could go to unpopulated areas, his guilt-level for getting off was a lot lower. As long as no one was around. It was safer that way. But Kal El, the Superman, had other fantasies. He starting to have more control over his powers and he would be able to do certain things and still provide safety for those participating. While he first experimented with Lana, he still felt like an alien life form outside humanity. He could not keep himself isolated, he found all human genders incredibly erotic. Kryptonians and human beings were built almost identical on the outside, down to the sexes and their similar reproductive functions. But early on, Clark found that his super abilities had a heightening effect on his libido. Today the brothers had dialed that sensitivity up to ten thousand with just their presence. He had spoken with them and worked in sets with them maybe six or seven times over the two years he was here but his mind was always distracted by crises of the day or even just the future. Maybe his mature Kryptonian form had mating periods. There was so much knowledge lost, it’s all just fragments now, scattered. As soon as he thought he had spent a normal time working out, Clark finished up with legs and did some stretching; just happening be in view of the treadmills. They were walking at a medium pace, ‘cooling down’. Clark headed to the locker room, and as he got through the door he heard Dave call out, “hey buddy, hold the door?” The Cole twins strode in bare chested, tank tops in hand. Dave tapped an appreciative fist against Clark’s shoulder with a thunk as he walked by. Butch walked in scratching the trimmed hair on his chest. The locker room was a modern open area with lockers along the walls with sinks, mirrors and stacks of towels, and grooming stations on the walls facing the lockers. There was a door to the showers, a door to the steam room and a door to the pool. Both the steam room and the pool had signs they were closed. Going down the short hall to the steam room, Dave opened the unlocked door to test it and then fiddled with the controls on the wall outside. “Give that about 10 minutes and it should be steam time. Tricks of the gym trade,” Dave chuckled. Clark’s locker was a ways down from the guys. He peeled off his t-shirt and used it to wipe imaginary sweat off his dark hairy arm pits, then up and down his torso. He felt pretty proud of his own build. Thick pecs, dark perfect chest hair, covering his six pack abs, with a clear adonis belt of his own. His shoulders and arms were large with veins running down each bicep and forearms. His legs were hairy, big and defined with concrete calves. He turned and went to grab a couple of towels from the sinks and realized that Dave and Butch had pulled off their shorts and were posing in the mirror close by. Concentrating, Clark tried to distinguish differences in their builds. Their bodies were near identical. They had similar hairstyles, brown hair brushed over to the same side, neatly trimmed with a tight fade at the bottom. Dave and Butch both had neatly trimmed brown chest hair with shave abs. Their forearms had trimmed brown hair as well. Their legs were completely shaved, accentuating their physiques. They each wore a large black cotton jockstrap that pulled their cocks down by their balls very tight. Across the elastic band was written “Addicted” in yellow on both. As if in unison, both stepped forward on the same foot towards the mirror into a most muscular pose. Their traps exploded on top of their shoulders into powerful backs. Their reflection in the mirror of their fronts was ungodly. It was easy to just stand there and stare. He looked up and they were watching him, grinning. He stripped his own shorts off, threw them on the bench beside his t-shirt and walked over to them in his own solid red jock. He had adjusted himself before he turned and now he felt his cock wanting to strain against the fabric but he kept it under excruciating control. Butch pulled at the front of his jock, trying to adjust himself. “Damn, this thing is distracting.” Clark wondered if he meant the jock or his semi monstrous erection. Then he realized that it was just soft. “Idea!” Dave strode back down the hall, taking the ‘Closed’ sign from the pool door. He affixed it on the outside of the men’s locker room door. When he came back in, he turned the lock on the door. He knew the staff person on duty: Deena. “She’s a nice chick but she could care less about rounds or even who was here. Plus no one is coming in at this hour.” Dave looked at Butch first then met Clark’s gaze. “Looks like we can let the beasts out of the cage.” As Dave was speaking, Butch was pulling his jock down taking it off completely and tossing it on their gym bags. Butch pulled at his meat a couple of times, to air it out from being stuck to his heavy balls and then let it hang. Dave was more deliberate. He pulled the band down and rolled it over so the “Addicted” was upside down and the colors were reversed. He turned and flexed his glutes, stretching the waistband down over his ass. Clark caught a glimpse of Dave’s tanned hole, “My god,” he had to keep himself from whispering and hope that he didn’t actually. With a grin, Dave turned and pulled his jock over his legs and out each foot. He looked like he was flexing every muscle in his body. His cock hung there, thick and heavy. He wasn’t hard, either. Clark then realized Dave wasn’t flexing. His body was just a solid mass of power. Butch went into a side chest post, with his raised leg side facing them. Dave shook Clark’s shoulder seeming to almost wake him from a daze. “C’mon buddy, let’s hit it!” The mirror showed three massive muscle men hitting perfect forms. Clark flexed as hard as he could, almost shaking with forcing his muscles to their most pumped. The Cole twins looked relaxed, as if this was no exertion. Putting his hands on his hips and spreading his lats to their widest, Butch signaled the next flex. Dave and Clark followed with their own. Clark’s spread was definitely not as wide as theirs. These men were dwarfing Superman but it helped that he was humble and not so proud to admit they were sex gods. “Maybe I do need some help in the training department.” Clark grinned and turned to face them. “Dude you are jacked. Do not let anyone tell you different.” Butch put a hand on Clark’s shoulder and gave a slight squeeze. “Are you doing any fitness modeling? Camming? Onlyfans bullshit?” he grinned. “Naw brother! Clark’s a kept man! You don’t look like that and pay for jack shit.” Dave couldn’t hold it in any longer and burst out laughing. “Buddy we are just pulling your chain. You do you. As long as you look like that doing it!” Did Butch’s cock just twitch? Clark thought, “that grin he’s giving me, it’s like the friendliest version of the cat who could eat the canary.” They stared at him for a little too long and then looked at each other and nodded. “Fellas, I do believe our steam room is ready.” Dave bowed and pointed down the hall. “Grab your towels and let’s loosen up.” Clark pulled down his jock and grabbed a towel. A whistle came from behind him. “Jesus christ, man. You’re packing,” Dave beamed at him. “That’s nice of you but I gotta say you guys have got to be popular with all the ladies,” making a cheesy ‘hubba hubba’ gesture with one hand. Butch looked at Dave and doubled over into laughter, his soft monster cock flopping a little as he slowly got his chuckles under control. “He’s really a boy scout, ain’t he?” slapping Dave on his massive pec. All three men strode down the hall and went into the steam room. It was a smaller area, with a tile bench attached to the wall in an ‘L’ shape. Steam was flowing from the floor and the room was hot. Spreading a towel out to sit on, Clark sat down in the back area, facing the door. Dave and Butch sat on either side of him, kind of close. “Buddy, we’re popular with all types. Guys, gals, you name it. Ok, well not the animal kingdom, that’s a little too messed up.” Butch put a hand on Clarks knee and gave it a squeeze. “But dude, you’re extraordinary.” Dave put a hand on Clarks other leg. “You were kind of giving us ‘fuck me’ eyes out on the gym floor.” Butch leaned in and kissed Clark hard, forcing his tongue into his mouth, he wrapped on hand behind his head, pulling him in. For a second Clark tried to resist but Butch flexed his bicep in front of his face, pulled hard on his head and said “Kiss it!” His tone meant he was not to be denied. Clark realized he couldn’t move his head. Butch’s huge hand had the back of his neck and squeezed a warning, moving him closer to his huge arm. When he reached up to grab the arm with one hand to steady himself, Butch pulled his head away from his arm and spit into Clark’s mouth and then pulled his head up to his, kissing him, Butch’s probing tongue was playful, an intimacy Clark had never encountered. His cock swelled up rock hard and slapped his hairy abs. “Ohhhh” he moaned until Butch engulfed his mouth in his own again. At the same time, a mouth closed around his thick uncut cock. Every muscle in his body tensed and pleasure raced from the head of his cock up his spine. In the back of his mind he realized that if Dave kept his mouth on his cock for too long, he might kill him when he cums. He started to push Dave’s head away as Dave took him completely in his mouth. Clark was eight inches fully hard, thick as hell. This new sensation had his cock more swelled and throbbing than he thought was possible. Dave’s lips slid back up the full length to the tip of his foreskin, the suction was incredible. He slowly started again, pushing Clark’s foreskin down below his flaring head while taking the whole length into his mouth again. He could feel every movement of Dave’s tongue, every flexing of his throat muscles. He reached up to push Dave off his cock, he felt like he could explode at any moment. He started to panic, he was going to kill this god of a man. Dave grabbed the wrist of his arm on his side and pulled it over to his lap, where his soft cock started to thicken. “No, no, no, no,” muffled cries of ecstacy as Butch was kissing him. He tried to reach up again to push off Dave with his opposite arm and Butch grabbed that wrist, pulling his hand down to feel his massive, hard cock. He wrapped Clark’s hand around his girth, his hand wasn’t big enough to wrap around it but Butch’s was. He looked down from the massive neck, down the furry pecs that were striated beyond belief, down the eight pack, to the monster cock he now had in his hand. His face contorted into fear and pleasure, he whispered “Oh no!” and filled Dave’s mouth with ejaculate until it filled his mouth and kept going. “Dude, it’s ok. We have that effect on people a lot!” Butch grinned, standing up in front of Clark, his foot-long cock fully hard and inches away from Clark’s face, “now it’s your turn.” Panicked, Clark looked down at Dave expecting to see a dead man. Nope. Dave seemed to be eagerly cleaning up every bit of Clark’s load. Dave wasn’t dead. Clark’s orgasm didn’t kill him. ‘What the fuck?! You mean I could have been fucking this whole time?!?!’ A frustrated look of confusion must have crossed his face. *Wham!* *Wham!* Butch was using his cock like a battering ram, smacking the side of Clark’s head. He looked up and Butch gave an evil grin. “He doesn’t like it when you keep him waiting.” Clark took the huge cock in both hands and pulled the foreskin back, exposing a massive throbbing head shaped like a battering ram. Butch thrust his hips forward, pushing more of his cock between Clark’s hands. As he somehow fit the head in his mouth, he began to work his tongue and suction gently taking it slowly so his abilities wouldn’t hurt him. “C’mon man, I’m not made of glass” punching Clark in the side of the head with one large fist. “Open up, give me what you got.” Clark was seeing stars for a second. He felt that. In a big way. Slam! “Open. Up” and with an “Ahhhhhh” Butch’s cock was all the way down Clark’s throat. His eyes were bulging, unable to believe the size of it. Before he could recover, Butch pulled out fully with a ‘pop!’ and stepped up onto the tile bench. Dave indicated for him to get to his feet and Butch’s cock was face level with him and he reached up and grabbed it with both hands. He wanted to worship it, treat it like the rare thing it is. He looked up at Butch who had one hand on the ceiling, striking an almost Olympia style pose. *Wham!* *Wham!* Stars again “Don’t keep me waiting, kid, else you won’t be getting just a love tap.” Butch folded his arms over his chest and looked down at Clark. With no hesitation he took all of Butch in his mouth in one stroke, two strokes, all the way in and all the way out. With a shudder, Butch reached down and grabbed Clarks head in his hands and started slowly pumping. Reaching up to feel the abs, the furry chest, a pair of fingers started gently pulling, probing Clark’s ass checks from behind. Butch started speeding up the strokes in and out of his mouth and let out a low growl. At the same time, Clark tried to clinch his cheeks together. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for this next step. Dave reached around and found Clark’s cock was rock hard again. Dave’s bicep flexed against his hip, and his other arm reached around and started pulling at Clark’s balls, gently massaging them. He flexed his bicep on the other side of Clark’s hip, holding him steady. Clark’s ass unclenched after a couple of strong strokes down his throat and Dave’s tongue found an opening in his ass. Diving into the warm, superhero muscle ass, his tongue reached the hole and began to gently, then harder, penetrate. Clark tried clenching it shut but between the massive cock using his mouth and throat like a piston , and Dave’s hard tongue firmly pressing into ass, and the strongest arms he can remember holding his hips, and huge hands squeezing his cock stroking it into unprecedented size…. Dave released him and stood up. Butch sat down on the bench, his behemoth laying against his hard abs and chest. Dave put his hands on Clark’s hips and guided him forward into Butch’s grasp. He reached up and grabbed the back of Clark’s neck and in one motion forced him down into his lap, his face resting between the erect cock standing up and the heavy balls laying across massive quads. “Mpphmph” as Butch grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him in for a deep kiss. Dave’s tongue disappeared and was replaced by the head of Dave’s massive cock resting on his back, just above his crack. A shudder went down his spine and Butch pushed his cock back into Clark’s mouth and again grabbed his head with both hands and began to pump his hips and use his hands to hold Clark’s head in position. Dave’s cock was generating so much heat and it was heavy laying on his ass. He began to pump his cock up and down along his crack, each time sliding a little lower until…. “Mapphphh!” Butch pulled Clarks head completely down on his cock at the same time Dave’s head popped into Clark’s hole. His eye started watering, bulging. Butch slowly returned to fucking his face. “Jesus, Dave I almost shot my load when he clinched, well, everything” “Dude, I’m not sure I can get it in any more. It’s so tight and it feels like there’s a wall.” Dave’s own identical battering ram shaped cock head sat just inside Clark’s hole, throbbing. *Wham!* *Wham!* *Wham!* Butch had released his right hand and immediately gave two punches to the side of Clark’s head and followed those up with a knee into his diaphragm. Making a choking sound, Clark almost went limp. He didn’t have strength to mount any resistance and Dave pushed a good five inches of his rod into his ass. Butch had hold of Clark’s head again, and with a “Yesss”, he pushed as deep as he could go into his throat. “Ahhh, that’s about six inches in, feels like you’re taking a beer-can I bet… ohhh yeah….that’s right squeeze a little tighter, just gonna make me harder…this ass HAS to be virgin… it’s soooo tight, feel me stroking in and out right now? You just took a couple more inches… Butch is he cryin’ yet? Don’t wanna hurt the big guy….ohh you’re grabbing my cock so tight, relax some… otherwise it’ll just be like a cock ring, swelling my beast up.. shit buddy, we’re getting close to finding the end of the tunnel…” Dave let out of low “yeeeeahhhhhhhhh” as he slid in the last, thickest part into Clark’s hole. He slapped Clark’s ass with one hand, sending a ripple across the dense muscle. Dave’s muscles in his lower abdomen pressed up firm against his ass checks, mashing them, making sure every bit of his cock was inside his hole. Clark felt like his insides were being split open. Dave’s cock was getting bigger inside him. He tried to relax and breathe but Butch had picked up the pace and was now forcing his own massive cock down Clark’s throat, intent on each stroke being more powerful than the last. His hands moved from the sides to the top and bottom of Clark’s head, yanking his jaw when he could. “Fuck man, every time you stroke he clenches, I ain’t gonna hold it for long!” Dave withdrew his cock in one stroke with a loud sigh from Clark, then stuck his face into Clark’s ass mashing the cheeks apart, sticking his tongue about an inch inside. Butch pulled his mammoth cock out of Clark’s mouth, looked at him and spit into his slack mouth. Tears had been streaming down his face and saliva was thick and drooling from his chin. “Hey Dave, I think he likes it” “We don’t want him broken, Butch, so let’s get a little creative.” The Colossus sized brothers stood and lifted Clark to his feet. Butch turned Clark to face Dave and suddenly put him in a full nelson. Clark tried to break free. Butch’s arms wrapped around the back of his neck and pushed his head down. His massive chest pushed into his back, his arms were pushed straight up, Butch was going to dislocate his shoulders! At the last second, Butch eased off. Clark was in a daze, he was being manhandled by two of the most powerful humans he’d ever met. “Hey kid, daydream on your own time!” Butch pulled him up, this time lifting him off the ground in the same full nelson hold. He could feel Butch’s cock burning against his ass, pulsing with that same slow heartbeat. Butch pulled his hips back and the monster slid down his ass until he could feel the thick tip find the spot underneath the ass and start pushing. Clark’s initial reaction was to resist, to hold his legs together. “Aw man, you’re gonna drive me nuts acting like you don’t want this,” and Butch pushed his cock through, under Clark’s balls. He could feel it throbbing between his legs, Butch was battering further until he felt Clark’s soft ass mash against his unstoppable muscle. Clark looked down when Dave did. Butch’s cock had pushed Kryptonian muscle apart like they were nothing. It was standing straight ahead, throbbing, powerful. Dave grinned and lined up Clark’s once impressive cock on top of Butch’s, pushing both balls to either side of the massive meat Clark was now riding. Butch leaned back some, raising Clark farther off the ground to where his back and legs were pressed against almost all of him. “You feel that, don’t you kid… I could probably hold you up with my monster just by itself, like you were sitting on one of the most powerful steel beams in the world… yeah, we ARE that strong… you’re just getting a little taste of it now…. are you going to be able to handle more?” His own proud cock was about to burst it was so hard. Dave put a hand around both Clark’s and Butch’s cocks, and then lay his cock over Clark’s. Butch began to pump behind him and he let him lean back into the unmoving wall of muscle. Dave’s monster really brought into contrast how much bigger they both were than Superman. In every way. His legs were swept up under each of Dave’s arm. He was now suspended against Butch behind and Dave up front. “Little help?” Dave grinned and made his cock jump. It slapped against the bottom of his ass once, twice, the third time it pressed against Clark’s hole. Butch felt some resistance and pushed down on his nelson hold when Dave nodded and in a swift motion pushed up with his hips and down on his arms, demolishing the once resistant hole, pushing all the way in. Clark’s resistance was shattered. His ass was on fire. Dave began stroking, ten, nine, eight inches to go, seven, six, at five inches he would flex his cock, swelling it up and smashing his way back in to the hilt. His insides were sore, Dave picked up the pace and his strokes got even longer. ‘Why is my invulnerability not protecting me?’ Clark had little time to figure it out. “Yeah buddy, yeah, still tight… think we got a virgin hole tonight Butch… you really need to get in on this…” Dave pumped faster and faster. Butch switched from holding Clark in a full nelson to slinging one of Clark’s arms around Butch’s neck and holding up Clark with one hand under his ass. He could feel Butch stroking his meat with his other arm underneath his back, smacking it against his spine. With a growl, Dave started pumping so fast Clark almost passed out. Clark opened his eyes and Dave roared, pushing in all the way. He was held here, spasm after spasm of Dave’s cock unleashed what felt like a flood in his insides. His orgasm lasted about 30 seconds, pulse after pulse, cum started pouring out around the hilt of still massively erect cock. Clark started flexing his ass as best he could and Dave jerked his head up to look at him in shock, “fuck man, it’s never going down if you keep doing that.” Butch wrapped a huge arm around Clark and with the other under his ass, lifted him off Dave’s cock. It felt to Clark like Dave would never slide out of him and when Butch lifted him up, he pulled him off Dave’s pipe with a pop and a flood of cum. “Bro, your cock is still leaking and you left all that inside him?” Dave grinned “and you thought his mouth was good…” Butch set Clark down on wobbly legs. He playfully slapped him in the face to bring him around. “Hey, no tapping out now buddy! Dave and I are into sharing!” Butch pulled Clark close to him, wrapping his arms around him. He started assaulting Clark’s mouth. “Fuck you are a good kisser!” Clark reached up and wrapped his arms around Butch’s neck. Butch pulled Clark’s body into him tighter. Every inch of Butch that pressed against Clark seemed like the hardest thing he’s ever felt. He pulled one hand around and started feeling Butch’s chest. With what seemed like little effort, Clark’s feet were again off the ground. Butch used his legs to pry Clark’s apart and with one hand still bearhugging him, he pulled one of Clark’s legs up toward his quad. Clark took the hint and moved the other leg so that Butch could lean back and get underneath his ass with his mammoth tool and still be able to keep one arm free. Clark was almost shaking in anticipation. As far as he could tell the brothers had identical cocks but with Butch kissing him, roughing him up, stretching his throat out, he felt like this was the main event of the night. He looked straight into Butch’s eyes and nodded. “Yeeeeah, let’s see what all the fuss is over this not-so-virgin hole. You ready for me muscle boy?” Dave stood behind him and lined up Butch’s cock against Clark’s asshole. Butch slowly started letting Clark slide down his body. “Fuck boy, your ass keeps pulsing against my cock like that and it’s never going to fit.” Butch adjusted his one arm bearhug to let Clark lean back out away from him and squatted down a little with his legs, spreading Clark’s legs out wider as well. With one swift motion, he jerked Clark down on his cock about three inches. His response was to try and climb Butch to pull himself off another massive tool that was invading his insides. “Hey Dave, check this out.” With one arm, Butch leaned Clark back, grabbing the cock that had been squashed between Clark and his muscle. With the other massive arm still supporting Clark’s lower back, Butch used Clark’s cock as push point, jerking it up and down. Clark began to groan and push at Butch’s hand. Feeling his ass pulsing, Butch slammed the rest of his herculean cock all the way home. “Yeeeaaaahhhh, Dave, I don’t think you stretched him out enough.” Clark’s first instinct was to try pushing himself up and to climb Butch’s massive form. Butch responded by using his free arm to reach under Clark’s ankle, pulling it up over his shoulder and spreading Clark’s ass even farther apart. “Grab my neck and hang on kid.” Leaning back so he was supporting most of Clark’s weight, changing the center of gravity had the effect of pressing Clark’s hole all the way to Butch’s steely pelvic bone. “Gimme that other leg,” flipping the other ankle up over the other shoulder. Clark was pressed hard up against Butch who was standing, leaning slightly back so he was supporting all of the weight. Clark’s arms were slung around his neck. Butch had both of his pythons locked around Clark’s lower back. Dave sat down and admired the sight, his cock standing at full attention once again, slowly jerking it up and down while he watched Butch long stroke his perfect cock in and out of the most perfect ass. “We are stretching that hole out tonight, aren’t we boy? You like taking massive muscle cock?” Clark looked scared but said “Yes sir”. Butch invaded Clarks mouth, biting his lip, fucking his mouth with his tongue as soon as he said “sir”. He was moving his cock in and out of Clark’s ass so fast it was burning. His hands moved down from his lower back to Clark’s ass. Each hand had a solid hold on each cheek, almost pulling at the muscle, deforming it with his grip. Clark let out a little yelp and Butch stopped stoking and left his cock fully inside again. “Did I hurt your ass?” He began massaging it while his monster cock’s pulse was slow and steady. Clark could feel almost every vein and he could feel the shape of the battering ram-type head deep in his gut. He realized that Butch had let go of him, that he was hanging off a mountain of muscle impaled on the most perfect cock he’d ever seen. He shook his head no and grinned. “Ohhh, being a little playful huh. I’ve been gentle so far but we can turn the dial up a couple of notches.” “Butch, hey, we don’t wanna break him on his first night,” Dave grinned at his brother. The whole time, Butch started slowly lifting Clark up off his cock and then lowering him back down. Foot long strokes. He was handling Clark’s massive 6’1” 225 pound body like he weighed nothing. Clark’s cock was being rubbed up and down the massive chest and washboard abs. The sensation was incredible, he could feel every ridge and valley. “I could fuck your hole all night… you thought you had a big dick but now you’re learning what big is… feel that stroke… my monster filling up your insides… I knew you could take it… yeah, love your hairy legs…” Butch rubbed his face over one of Clark’s calves. He stopped lifting Clark up vertically and, leaning forward, bent almost all the way over to switch to horizontal strokes so Clark was almost hanging off his neck. He started long stroking back and forth, each time pounding Clark’s hard cock against his massive body. “Every time I go all the way in your whole cunt spasms… can you feel me swellin’… soon it’s gonna be filling your insides with Butch’s cum… then you’re Butch’s bitch… oh that hole is getting tight, or is that me? Hehehe, yeah that’s all me. Dave may be big… But ain’t nobody is big as Butch!” With that his whole body flexed and Butch’s cock popped out and sprayed Clark and Dave with a massive amount of cum. Butch dropped Clark onto his feet so fast and pushed him to his knees it made Clark’s head spin. Still spurting cum, Butch forced open Clark’s jaws and slammed his cock home, Still thrusting his pelvis. “DRINK IT!” Butch yelled as it started pouring out of Clark’s mouth and nose. Butch pushed all the way in one last time with a “Fuck yeah!” Clark still felt the massive cock draining itself of cum. He did what he could until he was sure Butch’s beast was finished. When he let go of Clark’s jaw and pulled himself out of his mouth, he stroked it and smeared out what was left onto Clark’s face. “I just improved your looks tenfold” Dave and Butch broke out into laughter, and Clark did too after a few seconds, looking up at the massive brothers. “Here buddy, let me help you up, can you stand?” Dave lifted him up and set him on his feet. “Thanks, yeah, I’m ok” Clark’s ass was on fire but his mind was all over the place. What just happened? He was Superman. The strongest being on Earth. But these guys manhandled him like he was just some guy. What was the explanation? They hardly broke a sweat lifting or running. Their heartbeats were really slow but they seem to have a higher temperature than regular people, did they have a Meta gene? Most concerning of all is that he seemed to be no match in the strength department with these guys. He had been worried that any sexual activity Clark would engage in would result in harm or death for normal people. But there seemed to be no such danger with Butch and Dave. He didn’t sense any kryptonite around, no strange feeling when being subjected to magic, or red solar rays. He had to find out. “Fellas, it’s time to hit the showers” Butch signaled that he was done for the night, playfully popping Clark on the butt with the towel. “Get going kid” They turned on a few shower heads in the public shower and Clark realized he was covered with cum, inside and out. “Jeez, is that amount of cum normal for you guys?” Washing his big balls and cock Dave said, “We just got off this morning and you’re lucky we did” “I could fuck that hole again right this second, dude,” he gave Clark and intense look, “if we get pent up for too long, we start getting a little short with each other. We have to do it at least once a day. But hey, if you’re a twin you’re automatically a narcissist so getting off to yourself is more like masturbation. And if you look like us, we could have fuck toys lined up out the door waiting. But we’re a little too much, too strong for the common folk.” “That’s an understatement. How the hell did you guys get so strong? Steroids?” Clark probed “Yeah, we run cycles and it does help. You wanna try one? Get big like us?” Dave’s face lit up. “No one’s like us,” Butch’s body was gleaming from the shower and steam as he flexed into a double bicep. Clark could swear his arms looked even bigger. “No one,” Dave agreed hitting his own double bicep pose. Clark was definitely convinced both of them looked bigger. “Like I said, goals.” Clark lathered up and began to wash. Both muscle men came over and started helping him wash. Their massive hands ran all over his body, touching, squeezing his muscles. Clark started to get hard at their touch, feeling their unyielding bodies pressed against him while the water ran over them. Dave rubbed soap over his crack and lower back to scrub and Clark’s cock came to attention. Butch looked over at Dave and whistled, “he does have a nice one.” He grabbed it and started stroking it. Clark felt something hard against his ass. Dave and Butch stood in front of Clark as all three stroked their cocks. Clark put a hand on Butch’s chest, who flexed it and made it roll up and down. Butch still had Clark’s cock and was roughly stroking it. The brothers held their cocks out, comparing to each other. Butch pulled Clark closer to them and they compared Clark’s to theirs. It made their cocks surge, getting larger and larger. Laying Clark’s cock on top of theirs, Butch said, “I bet no one’s ever called you ‘lil guy’ before. You’re prolly in the only company that ever could.” Dave stroked his cock, shaking his head slowly. “Clark, pal, don’t take offense. No one except maybe Superman could even compare to us.” Butch laughed, stoking his own monster, “that guy probably fucks. He’s the only one I’d let take my ass. It takes a Superman to tame this muscle!” Releasing his cock, he turned and hit a rear double biceps pose. His back looked like muscle on mound of muscle. Clark shuddered, “oh fuuuck” and with that shot a load all over Butch’s naked backside. Butch spun back around and with a wicked gleam said, “Dave, I don’t think we’re done here just yet.” Before Dave could speak, Butch grabbed Clark by the arm, flipped him around facing the shower wall. He was stroking his bloated cock up and down across the crack of Clark’s ass and one massive arm pressing Clark face first against the wall. “I’m not sure you figured out your place, boy, but I’m going to remind you.” With that Butch once again sunk his blood surged cock to the hilt inside Clark. Pressed against the wall, his own cock hadn’t gone down from just cumming. Butch pushed down on Clark’s hip with the one hand, making his ass arch out. He started piston fucking Clark, placing his free hand around the back of his neck. “Oh you think I want your fucking cum all over me? You don’t know cum… I’m gonna pump you full, load # 3 today is gonna be a flood….feel my veiny muscle cock railing you? Feel that power… I got you with one hand… your leg press is what I curl… yeah, it’s almost there…” Butch kicked Clark’s legs farther apart, leaning more on Clark’s lower back to gain more momentum. “Yeah my little muscle bitch, Butch’s muscle bitch… we shoulda laid some ground rules… first rule is You ”<thrust> ”can’t” <thrust> ”compete” <thrust> ”with” <thrust> ”us!” <thrust> “….yeah, just gonna leave it parked in there for a minute… feel me flexing it, ripping your insides up… “ Butch reached around Clark’s narrow waist and seized his cock in a tight grasp. “fuck yourself on my dick… it's ok, you know you’re starting to crave it… I’m just going to hit a pose or two… don’t worry you ain’t budging me from this spot…” Clark started rocking back and forth on Butch’s cock, each pivot Butch’s hand squeezed Clark’s cock so that he was being fucked by Butch while fucking Butch’s hand. He let out an “ohh fuuuuck” as he quickly picked up the pace as Butch hit a double bi pose and locked it there. Clark was slamming against Butch but it was like fucking yourself on a horse cocked wall. Butch’s hand tightened his grip and he broke his pose to whisper in Clark’s ear “Here comes another muscle load,” and pushed Clark against the wall, mercilessly pounding his hole after releasing Clark’s cock. He was pushing him so hard against the wall, the tile started cracking. Pushing Clark’s head against the wall cracking the tiles in a head shape, Butch slammed him so hard Clark’s cock was smashed against the wall. “Yeaaahhhhh, fuuuuuck!” Butch held his cock deep inside and Clark was trapped between muscle he couldn’t comprehend and the cracking wall. With that final push he felt Butch’s cum start gushing into his insides. It sprayed out like a waterfall as Butch continued his primal grunts, his cock pulsing wave after wave of cum. His arm braced against Clark’s back he leaned in again and whispered, “that’s some real super muscles I got there… you love ‘em… especially the strongest <cock flex> muscle <cock flex> of all <cock flex>” Butch stood there still deep inside Clark, water trying to wash away the stream of cum that was still coming out of Clark’s ass. Butch’s cock was still hard, he could still feel a stream still emptying out inside his fuck toy. Clark realized he had blown another load when his Butch was grinding him against the wall, he hadn’t been touching himself, Butch had been hitting a spot like a human prostate except it was farther up inside a Kryptonian’s anatomy. Pushing himself away from the wall, Butch and Dave broke out into laughter. “Kid, you just survived getting smashed” Butch grinned and pointed to the outline shape of the broken tile. You could even see the spot where Clark’s cock was driven into the wall orgasmed. “Fuck it’s late, we need to get home and get some sleep,” Dave scratched his balls absently, signaling that tonight was over. It was pretty quiet as everyone finished cleaning and drying off. As they got dressed and started walking through the gym to the exit. Dave turned and got a little serious. “Did we scare you off buddy?” Dave put a hand on Clark’s shoulder and gave a little squeeze. Clark winced at how hard the squeeze was. These guys definitely had to be supers. “No sirree bob. When’s more?” Clark said with as much Midwestern charm as possible. ‘I have to figure these guys out, the sooner the better,’ Clark thought to himself. “How about tomorrow night, same time,” Butch winked at him and smiled. “We’re doing a heavy chest workout if you think you can keep up. We don’t want to overdo it. Building these muscles takes a little time.” Grinning he pulled a bicep up and flexed it hard. “You do like these don’t cha, your mouth is open again…” and he laughed. Clark blushed again, twice in one night! “Can’t wait to be just as big!” Dave and Butch started towards the exit. By the time they got to the car they had huge smiles on their faces. “Do you think he’ll figure it out?” Dave looked out into the night sky “By the time he does it’ll be waaayyy too late.” Butch started laughing. The thought made his monster cock swell and he pulled at the jock to readjust.
  7. This is my first story. I like to think that my writing gets better as the story unfolds. Of course there are always misses and hits, but please continue to read, and give me your feedback. Authors live for your feedback. The Wall I’m a successful Wall Street executive. My life is good. In fact, sometimes I think it is too good. I don't complain. My office is in the city, and I have a nice home on Long Island from which I commute to work every day. My work days are long and sometimes stressful, but I enjoy the challenges, and I decompress by obsessively working out in the gym and working in my garden. The garden is beautiful, but I always thought that it was lacking a few defining structures; so, when the idea hit me that a beautiful stone wall would create the backdrop it deserved, I hired a reputable landscape contractor who could make my ideas into reality. I was so excited. Monday was to be the start of the new wall project, and I had been thinking of little else for weeks. Unfortunately, the garden, where usually I love to entertain, was about to become a construction zone. So, the weekend before, I decided to invite my friends John and Ernie over for lunch by the pool and an afternoon swim. They accepted and had asked if they could bring couple of their friends along that they thought I would enjoy. You see, John and Ernie are toned and attractive enough, but they know I what really like is muscle -- lots of it. I get off on big, beefy, masculine men - physical men who enjoy rough housing and showing off. Nothing turns me on like a big man who’s willing to rip off his shirt, wrestle me into a bear hug and show me that he’s at least a strong as me. I work out a lot myself, and at 6’2” and 245 lbs, I make a worthy competitor. I like feeling the strength of other men, and I love being tested and felt up and appreciated by big men even more. I had left a note on the front door for Ernie and John and their friends to let themselves in and meet me on the terrace by the pool. They arrived single file down the garden path - first John with a big hug and a whistle, and then Ernie with pat on my rump and a tousle of my hair. Then, Ernie made his hands into fists and started pounding on my pecs. “Someone’s been working out!” Another whistle. Then with a squeeze, “You’re gonna need a binder for these things if they get any bigger, Max.” Then Ernie doubled back for grope of my arm and said, “Oh wow! I can’t get my hands around it. You may be getting too big, or is there such a thing?” Now Ernie and John know I love a little admiration and that I don’t really have a limit for too big; so, I knew they were up to something when they started fawning over me and teasing. I also know that Ernie and John are aware that throwing a little admiration my way goes straight to my dick, and I was just starting to chub up a bit when their two friend showed up next, sending me straight to full mast steel in seconds flat. John said, “Maxie, if you’re not careful, you may get as big as our friends Eric and Lars here.” Gulp... “Max, meet Eric and Lars. Boys, this is our host Max.” Oh my God. Two men of my dreams, Eric and Lars were big and tall and looked like superheroes in shorts and polo shirts. Eric was fair skinned and dark haired, and Lars was golden all over – hair, skin and eyes - like a lion. I was slack jawed and salivating, and they looked pretty hungry for me as well. With a firm squeeze of my rump Ernie said, “Well, isn’t anybody going to say anything? Hellowwww? Gentlemen…?” Knocking on the top of my head, “Hellowwww... Is anybody in home? ... Earth to Max!” Startled back into civility, I offered my greeting to both Eric and Lars, and we said our polite hellos while continuing to survey each other’s physiques like hungry wolves eyeing fatted lambs (or in our case, like other hungry wolves. I couldn’t stop staring, and I couldn’t seem to maneuver my hardon into a less obvious position. It was straight up, hard as a rock and going nowhere. The attraction was so strong, that I think it was actually uncomfortable for Ernie and John, although, Ernie could always come up with a quip or a bitchy remark to lighten the tone. “OMG, you three! get a room! Or should I just jerk you off right here so we can get that lunch we were invited for today. AND DRINKS! I'm sure we were promised DRINKS!” Then nodding to the iced pitcher by the grill, “Maxie, my dear, get it in gear. Those margaritas are not going to serve themselves!” Long story short, the afternoon was fantastic. Besides being absolutely gorgeous hunks of prime muscle beef, Eric and Lars were also interesting and witty and delightful. They were just so damn sexy that I couldn’t stop staring and fantasizing. Every hearty laugh expanded a massive chest. Every lift of a fork flexed bulging biceps. A twist and stretch near the end of the meal made Eric’s shirt rise up above his navel, exposing the base of a rippling 6 pack. I stayed hard for 2 hours. When lunch was through, I offered the pool to my guests and indicated a changing room just off the deck. Eric and Lars acknowledged acceptance with a nod and set off to get changed, but John and Ernie declined, saying that they had eaten and drunk too much and needed a nap instead and would just head home early if I didn’t mind entertaining Eric and Lars for the afternoon. John gave me a wink and a peck on the cheek, while Ernie just groped me in the crotch and said, “I’m sure you three can find something fun to do without us,” and then, “I hear Lars is quite flexible.” A few minutes later, Eric and Lars emerged from the pool house, and I didn’t know if I would pass out right there or just cum in my shorts. My God, those boys could fill out their speedos. And talk about perfection, each in his own way the definition of what manliness should be. Eric was fair with a swirling pattern of dark hair on his chest, a defined trail down the middle of his abdomen, with more abundant hair over his thickly muscled legs. Lars was golden all over, with honey colored skin and a light dusting of golden hair all over his chest, forearms and legs that shimmered in the sunlight, making him look like a salted caramel ready to be sampled. Both of them were hugely built. Eric had absolutely enormous legs, butt, back and arms. Lars had the biggest pecs hanging over the tightest abs and most defined atlas belt I had ever seen. I was slack jawed, and they were all grins. I think Ernie and John must have alerted them ahead of the game that they could have some fun with me, and when they dropped their towels on the chaises and started rubbing suntan oil onto each other, then I had to get in on the action. I walked over, and Lars started flexing his pecs, bouncing the huge slabs up and down and saying, “Hey, Eric, have you noticed how Max can’t stop staring at my pecs. I think he might be a chest man. What do you say, Max? Do you want to help Eric put some sunscreen on my chest?” Before I could reply, Eric said, “No, Lars, I think he’s an arm man. Look how his dick twitches in his pants when I flex like this.” Eric flexed a huge arm in front of my face, and true to form, my dick twitched and pumped out some precum that made a wet spot on the front of my shorts. Lars then said, “You know, I think John and Ernie said that more than anything else, Max would like to flex for us. I could definitely go for that. Why don’t we get him out of those clothes and see what he’s got. From the tent in the front of his shorts, I don’t think we’ll be disappointed.” Eric then grabbed my shirt by the hem and pulled it up over my head while Lars unbuttoned/unzipped my shorts and pulled them to my feet. It happened so fast I could hardly react, but my dick responded, all nine inches of it, throbbing straight up toward my pecs and leaking copious precum as my guests made their inspections. Eric let out a low whistle and moved close behind me, pushing his own hardon up against my butt while reaching around me to rub sunscreen onto my chest and shoulders. “Hey, Lars, his chest is almost as big as yours, but I think you should get closer so that we can more easily compare.” Lars nuzzled up front, grinding his still speedo-covered erection into my hardon while flexing his pecs and his abs. “Hey Eric, he does have an amazing rack, but I think I’ve still got him beat. What about his arms? They look pretty big. Why don’t you each flex a biceps for me so I can decide who’s is bigger?” Eric’s right arm appeared in my peripheral vision and flexed into an enormous peak just beside my right cheek. I couldn’t help but turn my head and begin licking it, and I thought I might cum right then. Lars interrupted, “No! No! No! Do not cum yet. You may not cum until the comparison is through. Okay, Max, flex that big arm for me and let me see how yours feels compared to Eric’s.” I flexed with all my might, turned on like I had never been before and somehow willing myself not to come until permitted. “Oh, man, Max, your arm is as big as Eric’s, but I think his peak is still higher." My dick was shuddering like crazy, and the precum was leaking in a continuous stream. "Yeh, big man, you and Eric are close in the arm department, but his back and ass are like nothing you’ve ever seen and can't be beat by anyone. Turn around, and Eric can drop his trunks and you’ll see what I mean.” With that, still sandwiched between the two musclemen, I turned around and then watched as Eric took a step back, turned around and raised his arms into a double biceps. My hands were instinctively all over his arms and shoulders, and my cock was shuddering but somehow still under control. “Rear lat spread,” commanded Lars, and Eric complied, lowering his fists to his waist and forcing the wings of his back to spread as wide as any back I had ever seen. Then, while Eric was still flexing, Lars reached around and pulled Eric’s speedo to the ground. That ass was magnificent. High, tight and covered with a light dusting of hair. As Eric shifted weight from one foot to the other, the landscape of his gluteus muscles flexed and rolled. I could see some glistening sweat and a tuft of slightly thicker hair at the base of his spine, disappearing into the top of his ass crack, and I nearly blew my load again. I had never seen and ass that beefy and beautiful before. I needed to be inside that ass, and I needed it right then. Seeming to sense my need, or maybe revealing his own, Eric leaned over and grabbed his ankles. Then Lars grabbled a glob of precum from my dick and lubed Eric’s hole. Then Lars commanded me to flex my own double biceps pose while he positioned my dick at Eric’s hole. He then shoved his own 8-inches into me, which in turn forced me to enter Eric with a single thrust. Mphggh! It was pleasure beyond anything I had ever dreamed. With Lars fucking me and squeezing my biceps while I was fucking Eric and feeling his big muscle ass, I finally came, buckling over Eric at the same time that Lars came and buckled into me, and Eric came and nearly buckled to the ground. I must have pumped a gallon of cum into Eric. Lars was still feeling my arms and my pecs and ramming my ass, and I just kept cumming and cumming, worshipping Eric’s huge muscled body from behind while myself being worshipped the same. Finally, we were done and exhausted and laughing and lightly wrestling and flexing and feeling and then doing it all over again in the opposite direction and several different combinations. Eric and Lars stayed for the night and most of the following day. Then we said our farewells, and they were gone. Like I said, the weekend was relaxing. Now it was Sunday evening, and I needed to get ready for the week. Let me know if you enjoy the story so far. I can continue it if you like.
  8. PART 1: The Season Opener I swallowed hard. The time had almost come, just another minute to go. I was sweating bullets as I waited behind the archway for my cue. The sound of the crowd out there was almost deafening, even back here behind the soundproof walls. I don't think I've ever been this excited or nervous before in my life. It was time for my very first match! An incredibly important one at that; the big opening match of the season. After months of anticipation, it was finally time to see if all those extreme stretches and stress tests were worth the effort. This match-up was going to push me to my limits. I was going up against the second biggest guy in the league right out the gate. It was a hell of a surprise for a first-time rookie like myself. Most guys in my position are lucky to book a match with an opponent at the lower end of the size rankings, maybe a mid-tier. My dinky little boner throbbed in my singlet just thinking about how gargantuan this guy was gonna be. I couldn't wait for him to crush me flatter than a pancake. "Ladiiiiiiies and gentlemen," I heard the announcer start. "We here at the C.W.L. hope you're ready for an explosive evening of heavy slamming, hard blasting, ultra intense, and extra imbalanced mayhem!" Deep breaths, Jeremy, deep breaths. Here we go... "And now, without further ado: In this corner, standing at mere 4 foot, 9 inches and weighing in at a measly 90 lbs, your Jobber for this evening: Jeremyyyyyy 'The Doormat' Smallwood." Right on cue, I walk through the entryway and began my first ever walk to the ring. Fireworks streamed out along the pathway, spunky theme music pumped through the speakers, and the crowd was cheering with ravenous anticipation. The intense wall of sound hit my ears like a freight train, but the overwhelming cacophany jazzed me up for what was ahead. It took me a hot minute to journey down the lengthy path, climb the daunting stairs, and awkwardly clamber to my corner. I took a moment to soak in the sight of the sprawling expanse of empty mat and the towering turnbuckles looming overhead. The ring here had to be extra, extra enormous since this league's wrestlers were- *THOOM* *BOOM* *THOOM* A mighty and imposing form had slowly stomped its way to the entryway opposite mine, waiting in the shadows for his cue to come out next. I could barely see his outline with all the overwhelming lights, lasers, and fog machines blasting everywhere, but my opponent was ready. I swallowed hard again, shaking like a leaf in anticipation. He was even bigger than I had anticipated. Hell yeah. "In this corner, standing at an incredible 24 feet, 11 inches and weighing a staggering 45,550 lbs, your Colossus for the evening: Apollooooo 'The Apocalypse' Rexford." *BOOM* *THOOM* *DOOM* *FOOM* Thunderous footfalls made the entire stadium shake intensely as Apollo slowly stomped his way to the ring. The league didn't typically bother playing theme music for the big boys; the booms generated by their every step were more than enough to raise the crowd's excitement. It was like the thumping of drums from a barbarian warship, signaling the arival of an unstoppable force. The cheers from the crowd when they saw me paled in comparison to how loudly they screamed for Apollo. I bit my lip as I watched him make his way toward the ring, his head rising higher and higher while simultaneously filling more and more of my horizonal view. He was a towering, impossible wall of muscles on muscles on muscles on MUSCLES even wider than he was tall. It took all of my concentration not to cream my singlet right then and there just from the quaking vibrations his mammoth feet. I'd saved up all week for this, and I wasn't about to let it go to waste. You may be wondering why a minuscule shrimp like me is being matched up against a man 500 times his weight and five times his height. Seems a little bit one-sided for a wrestling match, right? Absolutely! That's how things have always been in the Colossus Wrestling League. In the C.W.L. it's always a tiny resilient wimp against a hulking multi-ton bully. My job isn't to actually wrestle this monstrous man, goodness no. That would be silly. My job is to be his personal plaything, punching bag, and boy toy for the next few hours while an adoring horny adult audience enjoys the spectacle. That's the life of a professional jobber in this miraculous age. We jobbers are few and far between; an extremely rare mutation of human that is almost entirely immune to direct physical damage or injury. We're naturally small and scrawny in build, but you can crush us, squish us, slam us, bend us, stretch us, twist us - whatever really. We'll always end up springing back to normal soon enough like a rubbery cartoon prop. And on top of that, we're also highly resistant to pain. Being smooshed like a grape certainly feels intense, even overwhelming and uncomfortable at times, but it doesn't particularly hurt. If anything, for me at least, it's the ultimate turn-on. On the opposite end of the spectrum, but no less rare, are the colossi. While jobbers are tiny and resistant, they're gargantuan and tough. All colossi are ridiculously tall and naturally bursting at the seams with inhuman muscles. Even if a colossus never lifted a weight in his life he would have a bod so impossibly powerful and pumped he'd make the Incredible Hulk feel scrawny. But a big bod comes with hefty needs for fuel and relief; colossi have infamously massive appetites and sex drives to match their muscle. With the C.W.L. footing all their members' sky-high food bills and providing willing toys like me, most are more than happy to sign up as wrestlers and entertain the horny masses. And so, here we are. The big match. After many quake-inducing steps, Apollo had made it to the ring. My eyes widened as nearly 23 tons of bulk effortlessly stepped over the lofty ropes and made the specially-built, highly reinforced wrestling mat sag noticeably. His muscles, glistening under the lights with a perpetual cascade of sweat, were even more magnificent close up. Every obscenely disproportionate muscle group battled ferociously with one another for space at the tiniest of movements while an awe-inspiring tangle of thick, undulating vascularity snaked across every rippling surface. I once more bit my lip, overwhelmed by, not just the sight of him, but also his smell. Apollo, like most colossi, radiated a naturally intoxicating pheromone-heavy masculine musk. Few were immune to its enticing effects, and the bigger the colossus, the more potent his reek. I took a deep, deep inhale while my eyes were busy drinking in as many visual details of the beautiful he-man who would be flattening me tonight as they possibly could. Frick, he was absurdly handsome. Apollo's face seemed just as excessively macho as his body, with rugged features that looked like they had been carved from granite. That hard square chin. Those razor sharp cheekbones. That flawless stubble. Those full kissable lips. Long flowing locks of gorgeous golden hair flowed down from his head to the base of his 'neck.' Although, honestly, his neck was so thick with bulging meat that it barely resembled a neck at all any more. In fact, all of Apollo's extreme beef threatened to engulf his lovely face entirely from just about every direction. As if 25 feet of brute height wasn't enough, his trapezius muscles towered over his head by several additional feet. His massive deltoids, spread what felt like a mile apart, looked bigger than sedans. His prodigious powerful pectorals seemed like they'd dwarf small blimps. Both beef zeppelins pressed up intensely at his chin while jutting forward so unbelievably far that I'm honestly surprised the shelf's weight didn't topple him over. A dozen people could've been swallowed whole in the dark abyss between those tiddies. I certainly hoped I could go spelunking in those caverns eventually. His mile-wide upper body cinched down rapidly to create the most extreme, exaggerated hour-glass figure you can imagine. His long, hard 18-pack abs and rippling obliques tensed with densely-packed power as they worked overtime to keep his immense upper body balanced. The valleys between each pair of abs was also impressively deep; I bet if he did sit-ups you could crush coal into diamonds. To my surprise given the infamous nature of colossus dongs, there wasn't much of, if any, bulge to speak of in the front of his skin-tight sapphire blue speedo. I ever-so briefly experienced the one tiny twinge of disappointment I would feel that night... right up until I lowered my gaze a little further. Apollo's lower body immediately exploded back outward from his lean waist. His monstrous rippling pillars of quad muscle were as wide as his shoulders. There was NO space between them - it was quad vs quad in the ultimate battle for supremacy. You'd probably need to sit way back in the arena's nosebleed seats to observe all his hyper-developed leg meat at once. His calves were no less impressive, the fat carved diamonds were bulging like meat mattresses from carrying all that sheer tonnage. And then, at the very bottom, below his perfectly sculpted ankles, were his feet. Holy shit, those feet. Even for a man of his size and extreme dimensions they seemed disproportionately huge and muscly. Outside the ring Apollo normally wore specialized shoes made of an advanced shock-absorbing material so he didn't destroy every surface he stepped on. But here in the wrestling ring I got to see them in all their beautiful bare glory: perfectly smooth, immaculately clean, and flawlessly pedicured. In fact, every inch of my massive opponent from head to toe was flawlessly well-kept, since the colossi were pampered like royalty behind the scenes. The jobbers were treated fairly well too, but we didn't require quite as much upkeep as the men whose nails outsize trashcan lids. It took noticeable effort for him to do so, but Apollo managed to press his big burly chin down low enough into his obscuring tit meat to look at me directly. He licked his lips, a hungry and flirtatious smile spreading over his face. He let out a low, deep, velvety baritone grunt of desire that seemed to ripple through his muscles and vibrate from there throughout the entire arena. I once more came dangerously close to blasting in my load, but managed to hold on. Judging by some moans I heard in the crowd, several people weren't able to hold back as effectively. "Oh yeah..." he growled low, drinking in the audience's lust as he stared me down. "I'm gonna have fun with you, little man." Apollo began to raise up his arms, preparing to flex for his adoring public. The two monoliths were so incredibly thick they may well have put even his pecs and quads to shame. His forearms were so fat with bulging meat I was earnestly surprised he had as much mobility as he did. The preposterous pythons throbbed with macho power, bunching up and battling with themselves from just this simple lifting motion, and hovered tangelizingly out to each side. A hush came over the crowd in anticipation of the coming display. I was drooling a little. *BOOM* A shockwave of air rippled out from each peak as Apollo performed a front double-bicep pose. Each arm muscle blasted upward, forming a perfectly split peak that reached up to his clenched fists. The audience once more erupted with cheers, but he wasn't done just yet. With clenched teeth and a primal grunt he flexed his arms harder, willing more mass to spill out as his veins engorged with blood. Through this Herculean efforts both biceps rapidly rose, releasing another shockwave while the peaks reached the same astounding height as his traps. Not to be outdone, his triceps had simultaneously erupted in the opposite direction, becoming so large that their beautifully absurd forms slammed into the wrestling mat below. The mini-earthquake this created made me fall over, and I whimpered as I once more struggled not to pop off before the match even started. I wanted to worship this man with every fiber of my being. He was a grotesque monument to pure unhindered muscularity, and I wanted to lick every inch of him. As he bounced both bodacious biceps rhythmically, Apollo's audience showered him with yet more cheers and adoration. He beamed with satisfaction. The rhythmic bounces sent his abundant arm sweat spritzing out into the audience, splashing a lucky handful. After a minute or so of this pumped peacock display he finally relaxed his flex, his tremendous arms shrinking down to their smaller, though still awe-inspiring, size. I couldn't wait to see if his other muscles were capable of such extreme explosions of excess bulk. "Listen up, all you pathetic little PIPSQUEAKS!" Apollo commanded to his captivated audience. His neck meat clenched intensely whenever he raised his voice for emphasis. There was no need for microphones with colossi since their deep booming voices usually filled the arena with relatively little effort. "It's the first match of the season. A BIG event! And BIG events featuring dudes as BIG as me need big BIG surprises. So for a long while now I've been brewing an extra special gift for whichever miniscule, microscopic, scrawny little piece of fresh meat I eventually got paired with today." He pointed to me with a ravenous smirk. My heart was aflutter. "You know us big guys, we are a HORNY bunch. Most of us can't go more than a couple hours without pumping out one of our infamous monster loads. But, y'know what? You know what, weaklings? While you impatient bugs were out there beating off daily to my perfectly sculpted muscles," He did a small (for him at least) side-chest pose for emphasis. From where I was standing I could actually hear his muscle fibers groan. "I haven't let loose even once since the last season ended. Not. One. Single. Time." The audience let out a collective gasp. A colossus going one day without a release was one thing, maybe a week if they had the willpower... but several months? Utterly unheard of. "That's right, you PUNY JOBBER RUNT," he gleefully barked, turning his attention back to me. "I hope you're ready for the ride of your little life because I am PENT," With an audible lurching throb, the previously lacking bulge in Apollo's blue speedo surged outward, a mound bigger than my entire body throbbing from nowhere under the fabric. "-the FUCK," It lurched again harder, rapidly multiplying in erect mass. His previously non-existant balls suddenly rivaled small mini-vans in size, spilling out from the the impossibly stretched spandex, which somehow managed to retain its shape around the increasingly large hardening dick. The two multi-ton mounds hit the ground hard enough to cause another quake. "-UP!!" With one last monumental surge Apollo's rock-hard, heavily-veined schlong was towering above me at almost 15 feet long. I'm pretty sure it was twice as thick in circumference as my entire body. It was nothing short of a scientific miracle that his speedo was still intact. It was stretched comically thin and tight, leaving most of him exposed and rendering it a little bit superfluous. His mighty balls were now comparible to his pecs in rounded size, visibly churning with the countless gallons upon gallons of spunk he had been saving up those many months and somehow kept secret until mere moments ago. The visible skin of his dick throbbed crimson as globs of pre the size of my head dripped down like a leaky faucet through the soaked fabric at the tip. It looked, for lack of a better word, ANGRY. This thing was pissed off about holding back for so long, and it was looking to let out its pent-up aggression on someone small, wimpy, and conveniantly invulnerable to damage. As I salivated silently over this latest erogenous display of hypermasculinity and battled once more to keep my loins calm... the bell suddenly rang. Time for the match to begin.
  9. pasidious

    Becoming an Alpha - Part 3B

    Part 3A "Come with me," I said, and grabbed his hand. My heart was pounding in my chest. This dude wanted my cock, and I was going to give it to him. And I'd leave this building even bigger than when I entered. He didn't protest in the slightest, either. I pulled him behind me as we exited the cafeteria and entered the performing arts center which was attached to the same building. There was a private bathroom on the second floor with a locking door, and I was going to take him there. We stomped up the stairs and fortunately there were very few people around. The bathroom was unoccupied. I threw open the door and made sure he was inside with me before letting it shut. I locked the door. Before I could even turn around, his hands were feeling up my arms and I almost didn't even want to turn around. There's just something about having your arms felt. You can almost feel your own hard muscle under someone else's fingers. I extended my arms all the way and flexed my triceps, letting the muscle bulge out from behind my arms. "Fuck," he said, and his hands were instantly upon them. My cock was throbbing against the door. I turned around and saw his brief look of disapproval. I flexed my arms again, facing him, my biceps once again bulging up against my sleeves in a double bicep pose. "Jesus your muscles are hot," he muttered, before he reached out and grasped my arms again, this time with much greater fervor than in the cafeteria. Feeling his hands on my biceps was incredible. It's one thing to feel the cloth of my shirt trying to contain my biceps, but feeling someone else's hands against them was even better. My cock was aching at this point. I grabbed his face with my right hand and kissed him hard. He didn't resist and kissed back, moaning within my mouth as his tongue danced with mine. I pulled my face off his and said "Blow me. Right now" as my left hand was already undoing the drawstring. He knelt down and helped me finish the job as our heavy breathing echoed off the bathroom walls. My shorts fell and I was astonished yet again by the sight of my quads. They weren't huge by any means, but they were definitely thicker. I deliberately flexed them, though, to see what I was missing when I was walking to the cafeteria earlier. The individual heads of muscle were almost visible. And this wasn't lost on him, either, as he took a moment to run his hands along my thighs, squeezing the hard muscle. My angry throbbing cock wasn't going to be patient for much longer, though, as I thrust myself forward and slapped him in the face with it. "Suck me, dude," I breathed. My own behavior was confusing my brain as I was saying things and doing things I would never have done in the past. My actions seemed to be guided not by my brain, though, but by my throbbing cock. He didn't waste a moment and instantly had his tongue dancing along my shaft. He licked the length of its underside which sent shivers down my spine. "Mmmm" I moaned, and he increased the speed of his licking. "Fuck, you taste good," he muttered between licks. "Wait 'til you get to the filling," I said, suddenly pleased with myself for such a swift and witty response. "Mmmf" he grunted as he took the head of my cock into his mouth, flitting his tongue all around it. His hands moved back onto my legs and his fingers were kneading the muscle beneath. I took this as a sign to flex, and I felt my legs harden into muscular strength. I watched his hands literally get pushed out by the muscle bulging, but he kept on rubbing the muscle. It felt amazing. So fucking good. It enhanced the feeling my cock was experiencing as his tongue kept its pace licking and flitting around my slit with the head in his mouth. "Ungh" I grunted in pleasure. And then he swallowed more of my cock, taking in more of its length. The heat of his mouth was far more intense than just my hand, with which I'd become all too familiar, which I already knew from my last two blowjobs, but this time it was seemingly more pronounced. I'd gotten too used to just jerking off. The pleasure of a blowjob was intensely greater than just masturbating in front of my computer screen. His tongue was dancing along my shaft, and every few seconds he'd take in a bit more of it. My cock was apparently pretty big, according to the first dude who sucked me off, and this dude was taking in its length like a champ. Slurping noises were becoming more pronounced as he continued to suckle on it, and the pleasure only increased. "Ooof" I grunted again as my entire cock was down his throat. "Hmmhf" he moaned as he continued to suck me, feeling my legs, almost massaging them. It felt sooo fucking good, especially considering the new muscle in my legs. I could see his own cock was tenting his shorts as he knelt before me, but I wasn't too concerned with it. It was hot, don't get me wrong, but I was only concerned with achieving my own climactic pleasure. I had one hand behind his head, running my fingers through his hair. He had silky hair, very nice to touch. But the dual purpose of my hand on his head was to keep his head on my cock, in case he tried to pull off for any reason. He was going to finish this. He gave no indication of stopping, but I felt like I should take measures to prevent any attempts he could make to pull away. I was so close to achieving more growth. Nothing was going to stop it. I flexed my other arm for myself. I was getting really eager for my cock to explode, and seeing my own bicep flex into hardness was enhancing the experience. The sleeve tightened once again around the muscle, the cloth digging into my skin. Such a rush to feel that sensation. "Oh fuck yyyeahhh" I moaned, feeling the pressure building within my balls. My bicep was so defined. I don't think it fully sank in yet that it was, in fact, my own arm. The definition was perfect. A nice vein was protruding from my skin across the peak of my bulging bicep and I could almost see it throbbing as it pushed my blood through my body, getting ready to feed my muscles with the growth I knew was coming. "Ommmfff" he moaned again, and I saw his eyes looking at my bicep flexing. He was a muscle fag, too, just like the last guy who sucked me off. Of course, I knew that I was a muscle fag. But now I possessed a body I could easily jerk off to. And I was getting bigger. There was a wet spot on his crotch, and I supposed he was leaking pre into his shorts. I pumped my bicep a few times, enjoying feeling that cloth tighten around it each time. Fuck yes. It suddenly occurred to me that my sleeves might bust open in a few moments. And just that thought alone sent me over the edge. "Oh god--unghh--here it coooomes..." I grunted and groaned. My arm fell to my side. My cocksucker didn't know it, but I meant that in two ways. My cum, and the growth that will follow. The pressure reached its zenith. That telltale feeling when you know you're about to explode cum through your cock. And I don't mean those weak-ass ejaculations you sometimes get from a lackluster experience. No. This one was explosive. It was the kind that always makes your cock get even harder right before shooting. It was welling up from deep within my balls, and my cock was about to shoot cum harder than a firehose. I felt him squeeze the backs of my legs as he braced himself. He didn't try to pull away, and I was afraid he might when he knew I was going to cum. He held on. But I kept my hand behind his head anyway just in case. I needed him to swallow all of it. It may not have mattered, but every time I grew, the cocksucker swallowed my load. I wasn't going to take any chances. "Oh g--" and my voice caught in my throat as I felt the first explosion launch from my cock. "Ahh!" I shouted with a somewhat failed attempt at remaining subdued. I didn't want anyone outside the bathroom to hear too much. I obviously couldn't see it, but the volley that exploded from my cock felt huge, and he was struggling to gulp and swallow it all. He didn't gag, though, which was good. "Don't you--*huff*--spill a drop--AHH" and I shot again, another strong volley right into the back of his throat. "MMFF" he made a sound. I couldn't tell if it was of enjoyment or otherwise, but I didn't care. "Fuck yessss" I breathed, before shooting once again. I could feel the energy creeping into my muscles. A new show was about to begin. "Ungghgod," I groaned, as I felt what I assume was one last trailing shot. I gripped his hair, a clump of it within my hand. I was glad he had long-ish hair so I could even do this. I pulled him off my cock, and I realized as it slid out of his mouth that it was just as hard and throbbing as before I came. He was panting, and I could tell the inside of his mouth was coated with my spunk. He looked up at me, one eye closed, and I absolutely loved how my forearm was flexing as I held his hair within my hand. "Watch what you just did to me, little boy," I said with a deliberate attempt at deepening my voice. Why, though? I couldn't help but realize I was talking way differently from how I usually would. 'Little boy'? Did I mean to call him that? My thoughts on my strangely different demeanor were going to have to wait, because the power within my body was coming to its climax and I knew I was about to grow. I pulled on his head a little more until he lost his balance and fell backwards, and as I released his hair from my hand, I could feel the first changes happening to my body. He lay on the cheap tile of the floor of the bathroom and didn't make any attempt to sit up. I felt my body pulse. "You're gonna miss the show!" I shouted. He sat up on his elbows and glanced at me with a bemused expression as I stood there, my breaths shallow but deep. His tent was still pronounced in his shorts. My chest was heaving as my cock remained straight up and out, throbbing and still drooling onto the floor. My shorts remained down around my ankles but that's where I wanted them to stay. And my shirt... well, I definitely wanted that to stay on. For now. I wasn't even going to attempt to reconcile how I was still hard and throbbing. It felt too good to care. Nothing beats being hard and horny. "Ohhh fuck--ngh--yeahhh" I groaned, and I felt it happening. The shirt suddenly felt tighter around my shoulders and lats, and I could see within my peripheral vision that my shoulders were growing larger; they were spreading ever-so-slightly farther apart. My cocksucker's eyes widened. "Fuck yes," I breathed, seeing his reaction. "Unghh" I grunted as I felt growth entering my chest. My pecs were definitely swelling as I felt them flexing on their own. The muscle was bunching up against the fabric of the shirt, and it was tightening even further across my chest. I looked down, trying to see what was happening, and all I could see was my chest was pushing further and further out. My growing pecs caused the shirt to ride up and expose my abs. "Holy fucking shit!" exclaimed my cocksucker. GOD I needed to learn their names. I couldn't just keep referring to them as Cocksucker. Or... maybe I could. Cocksucker number one, cocksucker number two, and now cocksucker number 3. They could have their own t-shirts. I laughed inwardly at myself. But then I shook my head. My nerdy personality was rearing its ugly head and I needed to dispel it. He clambered to his feet, almost tripping over himself twice in the process. He had to brace himself by putting his hands on the wall, but his eyes never left my body. He had an almost hungry look in his eyes as he stared at my muscles. It was lust. I could see he was gathering his senses, and I felt my abs etching themselves deeper into my lower torso. My hands ran over my abs, and yes, they were definitely more defined. Tighter. Harder. I chuckled as I felt the orgasmic pleasure across my body as growth continued to flow through my limbs. The only way to describe it was like that amazing feeling you get in your cock as it hardens and grows from sensually intense arousal, only in my entire musculature. My hands wandered lower to right above my crotch, and my fingers traced my developing Adonis belt. "Fuck yeah," I said again, realizing that was a phrase I'd probably be using a lot. Adonis belts are so fucking hot, and I had one of my own. Suddenly my cocksucker reached for me, and I put my hand up to stop him. "Not yet. Still--" and I gasped, feeling my ass suddenly tighten as my glutes bulged on their own, growing tighter against the door against which I was still standing, "--grrrrowwwwwingg" I groaned, and I felt my legs flex uncontrollably and I could feel them swelling against each other. I had to spread my legs wider and I looked down and saw individual heads of muscle in my quads as they defined themselves before our eyes. "Yessss," I breathed, loving the fact that my legs were achieving the definition I longed for. My calves bulged bigger as well, adding mass and thickening my lower legs. I loved how they were tapering up from my thin ankles, creating a stark contrast. They used to be so skinny. My cocksucker looked frustrated as he stood there watching me. He looked almost frantic, and I could tell he was fighting his desire to worship me. Me! What a rush! His breathing was shallow, and I could see he was leaking profusely into his own shorts as his tent remained ever-prominent. He wanted so badly to feel my body. "How the fuck are you doing this?" he asked. "Just watch," I muttered quietly as I waited for the best part to come. And it was coming, alright. That orgasmic erection-like feeling was spreading across my back, and I felt it widening, thickening, made ever-so-more evident by the further tightening of my shirt. Stress lines were appearing in the cloth as it was being pulled much tighter than it was ever meant for. I rolled my more bulbous shoulders forward, forcing the shirt to tighten greater across my back, and I heard threads snap. "Oh yeah, here we go," I said, and repeated the action. Threads continued snapping, and I could feel the tingling entering my arms. FUCK. I rolled my shoulders forward once more and RRIIPPP the shirt tore down the center of my back. "FUCK!" my cocksucker shouted. He whipped his hand around his dick without even taking it out of his shorts and started jerking himself. "More!" I shouted in response, and I actually brought my arms up in front of my face and watched them, waiting for them to follow the rest of my body. My forearms were pulsing before my eyes, throbbing with each beat of my heart. And it was beating fast, I was so excited. Veins were wrapped around them, my muscle-blood fueling the muscle. They thickened, and I knew the best part was coming. "Aww fuck yeah," I cockily said, and flexed my arms up into my new favorite pose, double-biceps. The sleeves tightened around the muscles, and immediately I could tell they were tighter than before. I straightened my arms, and then flexed again. The sleeves dug into my skin, trying to contain my biceps as they throbbed and grew bigger. Threads snapped. I heard it clearly, and the sound even echoed off the bathroom walls. I looked at my cocksucker and his hand was furiously jerking his cock through his shorts. He was panting, and watching me intently as I continued to transform in front of his eyes. I looked from one bicep to the other, the sleeves still holding on. I don't know which threads snapped, but more were about to. I straightened my arms and flexed again, and this time both biceps surged bigger and my sleeves exploded apart, POP! And two mountains had risen from my arms, exposed entirely, each one with a throbbing vein running across its peak. "FUCK YES!" "Oh fuck, oh god," my cocksucker muttered and I glanced back at him to see him still jerking, but a large wet spot growing on his shorts. "Ohh fuck," he grunted again, and I saw his jerking stop, but his hand continued to grip his bulge through his shorts. His whole body appeared rigid as he stood there, his eyes closed. The wet spot continued to grow. Seeing this dude's cock just go apeshit over my growth sent me over yet another edge as my still hard, throbbing, drooling cock exploded once more. "OHHH FUCK!" I hollered as I felt the explosion well up almost instantly and shoot from my dick, spraying my cocksucker right in the face with the first long, hot, white rope of cum. And then another shot, not as big as the first, but large enough that it almost reached him. And then one more, before it turned into a dribble as cum just puddled all over the floor. And... holy shit, I looked down at my cock and did it... look bigger? I'd have to explore that some more later. Right now, I had a shirt on that was ruined, a large tear down the back and sleeves that were ripped to shreds, and shorts I wasn't sure would fit over my thicker legs. And a little cocksucker covered in my cum and some of his own. Oh boy. How do we get out of this situation without drawing any attention? I felt my insecurities creeping back into my brain as I started thinking of how this might go if someone catches us walking out of a bathroom together with cum all over the place. "Shit" I seethed as I bent over and pulled my shorts up my muscled legs. I moved slow to make sure I didn't accidentally rip them. And, as I brought them up over my quads, I was relieved that they still fit, the stretchy cloth containing them. My thin waist was of no concern, but where my legs were thickest definitely showed through the shorts, now. My cocksucker was stirring, as well, and I was almost concerned he might've passed out since he was so quiet. But he was attempting to wipe away the cum from his face with some toilet paper. He saw me looking at him. "Fuck, dude, how did you do that?" "I legit don't know, man. I just grow when my cock is sucked." "Hottest thing I've ever seen in my life." "Hottest thing I've ever felt in my life. Not even a week ago I was a skinny twig. Then I got my first blowjob. And then another. And now the one you just gave me." I flexed to accentuate my new musculature and my bicep exploded from my arm. It was so hot. To see that muscle which was only just a bump on my arm not long ago. "Fuck yeah," I muttered to myself. The muscle on my body made me forget the possible embarrassment over what transpired in here. I looked into the mirror and saw a jock looking back. "Hey, uh, think we could leave separately? I just wanna make sure no questions arise as to why two dudes were in the bathroom together. Not that I care, I just don't wanna waste my time answering them." I continued to look into the mirror. I tucked my fingers into my torn collar and watched my forearms flex as I ripped it apart, rending my shirt down the center and watched my torso come into full view. "FUCK," I said aloud, looking at two thick pecs, a clear six-pack, round shoulders with visible striations, and even traps. I had that coveted V-taper going, too. FUCK, I was hot! My arms bulged at my sides as I held the rag that was once my shirt. "But--" he started to protest, I assume. "Thanks, bro. Here--" I tossed the rag that was once my shirt at him, and it landed over his head and face, "--use that to clean up. I'll see ya around, alright?" and I unlocked the door and walked out of the bathroom, my bare torso on display for all to see. I didn't even care. The few people who were even around looked, of course, but no one complained. In fact, almost every look I got was one of lust or pure wonder. I felt myself strutting as I walked. My mind, at first, wanted to correct myself and walk normally, but the thought quickly dissipated. I deserved to strut. I was hot. And, as I exited the building into the hot sunlight, I realized a tan would look really good. And I realized something else. I definitely did leave the building even bigger than when I entered.
  10. Mickyh29

    Worshipping my younger bro pt2

    While Ellis was showering I decided to go downstairs, I needed space to compute what had just happened during the past 10 mins or so, I had literally just become putty In my fit brothers strong hands, an 18yr old hunk making a 23yr old feel like a child getting a new toy. Ellis had me in a muscle hunk trance and one that he knew I enjoyed and if I’m honest so the fuck did I. I admit I would have been happy just to set eyes on his incredible body the whole time I was here but now with the whole worship thing I really do feel like that child. Around 15 mins later Ellis made his way back down stairs to the kitchen, luckily for my crotch , considering where we were, he wasn't wearing anything tight but opted for some baggyish grey joggers and a loose tee, even with them on you could still just about see the solid curvature of his pecs, and the roundness of his plump squatters arse. During tea the conversation was mostly about how my new life down south was coming on and future aspirations etc. Ellis was on to me though using every opportunity when mam wasnt looking to wink at me and bounce those ridiculous pecs of his under his shirt, each round of winks and bounces edged my bulge closer to making a visible bulge in my pants, a part of me wanted him to stop as we were nearly finished so I’d have a raging hard on when I stood up, but part of me couldn’t resist just watching as he effortlessly made me internally groan with delight. Ellis rightly or wrongly showed a little mercy and stopped, letting my bulge settle down, we both knew the main event was getting closer. Ellis told his mam that I was going to help him with some course work, we both left the table and headed upstairs, my heart was going 10 to the dozen, what would await me when that bedroom door closed? What did my hot brother have in store for me? I was about to find out, we got to the bedroom, I went in Ellis followed and closed the door behind him, here we go! “ So brother you want to feel what a hard muscular 18yr old body feels like do you? You want to feel every inch of this physique dont you, you want to feel what its like to be strong and have muscles, isn’t that right? ” As if a switch had been flicked inside his head, Ellis had gone from my younger bro to being a freaking hot dominant muscle master. That trance like feeling had been replaced with a real mental hold that Ellis now had over me, I was powerless to resist both mentally and physically, as mentioned Ellis can deadlift nearly 200kg, he'd make easy work of me! “ YES, YES, YES,YES! “ Is all could muster to say. I took a breath, “ I would love nothing more then to get my hands on such awesome muscles like yours, feel how solid they are, feel there power, you are right in everything you say bro.!!” Ellis smiled, “ good little brother, that’s right, little, I’m the bigger brother now right! Your nothing compared to me brother, I’m inferior to you in every way! Now come here and worship your godly brother.” Ellis then grabbed the V part of his tee round his neck, RIIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPPP, with no effort at all Ellis ripped his tee clean off his body, that muscular body of his primed and ready, I did need a second invitation. “ YES SIR” I blurted out, I moved the quickest i ever think i have towards him. My hands went straight for those bulbous pecs of his, taking in every inch of there fullness, roundness and hardness, I let out a groan as Ellis tensed them and made them impossibly harder, I couldn’t make a dent in them even if I tried. “ so hard so beautiful “ I exclaimed. I thrust my fingers deep into his pec gap, mmmm the power they must have. I move my hands down to his ripped toned midsection, taking in every ridge n rivet of his strong abs, God they felt hard as marble. “ punch me now brother! “ Ellis demands in a commanding tone. I look at him, “ er er er bro I’m not going to hi.......” Ellis' face turns angry, “ PUNCH me now you weak fuck!” he barks . I gulp hard in fear, a punch from Ellis would do 100x more damage to me then I would do to him, I shakingly ball up my fist, I move my arm back and with as much power as I had I aim a punch into his abs, “arghhh" I cry out as my hand feels like it’s just struck a mable slab, Ellis’ abs didn’t even buckle, my hand crumpled away, “ hahah impenetrable bro" Ellis mocks my attempt. “ yes bro they are, you are one solid 18yr old!” I quickly move my hands away and towards his arms, taking in the rippling muscle and size of his forearms, even to the touch you could feel the power surging through them. I slowly move to his biceps and triceps, tracing my finger round the noticeable mound that make you the horseshoe of his tricep, fuuuuck it looked thick and felt juicy, Ellis curled his arm to bring up the peak of his bicep, “ whoah fuuuuuuck" It wasn't even a proper flex but sweet jesus that peak balled up high on his arm, I clasped my hand round it my God it felt like molten lava, I thought his pecs were hard but christ his biceps took on a whole new level of hardness. As much as I wanted to keep worshipping those peaks I had to move on and upwards to his globe like shoulders, each shoulder was capped off with solid rippling mounds of lean muscle. During all this my insanely hard cock was doing its upmost to free itself from the confines of my trousers. Ellis shrugged his shoulders, my hands fell off easily. He turned round so his back was facing me, well when I say back I’m meant the 18yrold son of the Grand Canyon, fuuuuck Ellis’ back was built! I was just about to get my hands firmly on when he hit 2 unbelievable poses. Firstly a back double biceps: I didn’t even wait for the nod, I was straight in there, my bro had arms any grown man would be proud of. Just check out those peaks and believe me there just as impressive in the flesh, God help anyone who has to arm wrestle him, destroyed instantly! Then came the lat spread: It should be criminal for a 18yr old to have a back like that! Just look at that thickness and width, in-fucking- sane, my hands went straight for those lats, I grabbed as much of those meaty wings as I could, they felt unreal, slabs of pure solid muscle just hanging there like hams on a meat hook. Feeling the power that was flowing through Ellis' body and those muscles feeling like his body had been carved from the finest marble was beginning to make me feel weak at the knees.
  11. Hey guys! Here is part 2 of what I think will be 3 or 4 parts total! As you will find out in the first line, Part 1 actually occurred in the son's head (stay with me lol!) - but I did that intentionally because when I wrote this I wanted it to be a bit more "realistic." We've all seen a hot guy at the gym or out-and-about that we day dreamed about later on, only wishing we could feel his flexed muscles. It can suck to see a hot guy and fantasize only to come back to reality. Part 2 though, is when that fantasy becomes a reality. What if we actually had the courage to compliment that guy's muscles or ask to see him flex? Better yet, what if the bodybuilder, wanted to? What if the 50 year old muscle daddy we've all jacked off to actually wanted to flex for us and got off on it?? Part 2 is a bit of a slow burn but, as you'll see by the end, Part 3 is going to get VERY hot for the son. Enjoy About My Dad . . . Pt. 2 “Are you okay?” He suddenly asked very concerned, almost like the tone he had used earlier. “What?” I squinting an eye confused at his rapid shift in composure and tone. “Are you okay? I asked you and you just kind of starred off for a second.” He said smiling at me, in front of me having just walked in from work. He was fully clothed. Sometimes he would come in and strip down to his boxers, but not today apparently. I blinked a few times as a sudden wave of disorientation came over me. With this came a wave of self-awareness. I was red, my heart was pounding, and my breathing was heavier since he had walked in. Damn. All of that, just from him walking in the house from work? I needed to get a grip to say the least. “Yeah of course, sorry I didn’t hear you the first time, I just woke up from a nap a few minutes ago so I’m still really groggy, you know how it goes!” I said trying to playoff my embarrassing daydreams as best I could. And that’s all it was. A daydream, a fantasy, whatever you want to call it. Now, to be clear, my dad’s body was not a fantasy. I could still see the outlines of his tick pecs and arms through his shirt. I could even see some of his veins in his biceps actually. But everything past him walking in had been nothing more than some weird scenario my brain had made up. That is not to say it was entirely fictional though. Those things, the things that I confessed to him, the embarrassing, pressing things that I wanted to say were all true. I did admire his new physique. But how on earth could I ever tell him that? Sure it played out well in my fantasy, but in real life, how could it? “Well how about, you get yourself oriented,” he looked at me again with a half-smile in half pity, “and I’ll go change. Are you hungry?” He asked turning away. “Actually yeah I’m starving.” “Okay I should have dinner ready pretty soon actually, it’s nothing fancy, but it won’t take long!” He assured as he walked back into his room. Once he was out of sight I stood and immediately headed for my room, on the opposite side of the living room area. A strong head rush overtook me and I started to lose my balance as my vision darkened. Slowly the world returned to how it should be and I went into my room. Despite the shortness of my daydream, it had put more blood in other places faster than I thought it would. I leaned on my bed for a second and put my head down to catch my increasingly short breath. “Okay get ahold of yourself. Yes, you want to say that, but you can’t.” I tried to assure myself. As much as I wanted to deny it though, this wasn’t the first time I had thought about a situation like that. My dad really had bulked up over the past 2 years, and he had begun to show off his gains far more than he used to. 3 years ago my dad was a bit nervous to wear shorts out of the house, and would only ever wear t-shirts and shorts in doors. Now, fast forward to present day, and he casually walks around in his boxers. Honestly, I’d say he’s half-naked more than he is clothed whenever he’s home at this point. So not only had my dad gotten a ripped body, he was obviously okay showing it off. Making matters worse though, I’m not sure he realized just how confused it made me feel. He casually walks around in tight briefs flashing . . . well . . . all of his muscles and his manly body. I try not to look too often, but it had become more and more difficult not to. He had grown so much in the past few months and he didn’t really show any intention of stopping or slowing down. He was as hooked on getting in shape as I was hung up on his progress. I kept going back and forth in my head for a few minutes, trying to throw reason into the bizzar cocktail my brain had stirred up. Eventually I decided I should probably just lay down for a few minutes, you know actually take that nap I had mentioned before, and see how I felt after I meditated and rested for a few minutes. As I sat in my bed I couldn’t help my mind from going back to all of the thoughts I had just had, and how . . . intoxicating they were. I wasn’t quite sure how to reconcile or reason them, but after a few moments, growing upset with myself, I decided to clear my mind. I didn’t want to think about it anymore. It took a few minutes but before I could even realize it my mind started to wonder off to other random thoughts as I dozed off. I knew a decent amount of time had passed, but I wasn’t sure how much exactly. I knew my dad was cooking in the kitchen, but I wasn’t mentally keeping track of the noises I heard. My half asleep rest was suddenly broken when I heard, “Yo, dinner’s up if you want to eat!” My eyes slowly opened, and for a brief second I just sat up in bed and didn’t really think about anything. I sat still momentarily getting my bearings and checking the time. Only 25 minutes had passed, but it was restful. Just as I swung my leg out, it was like a switch hit, and my brain was right back to wear it had been before I had fallen asleep. What was I going to do? It was such a simple question with a myriad of potential answers. A thought flew through my mind, somewhat unexpectedly. “What if I just told him like I did in my head?” What!? I couldn’t do that! No, there is no way . . . could I? No. I couldn’t tell my dad that. I got up and walked to the door and just as I reached for the door knob my mind started to tilt the other direction. What if I did though? I would feel so much better. Okay yeah, he probably wouldn’t brag about his tight briefs or flex in front of me, but what if I just told him the truth and was honest about it. At least in the first part of my fantasy, it worked out pretty well. I didn’t need to disclose more than I had to, but I could at least be more honest than I had been. I had wrestled with this for so long, even before today, that to suddenly have a clear and lucid solution come to my head, it felt odd. Was I being hasty? I had never felt this sense of confidence before, so why now? I walked to the kitchen continually weighing the different scenarios, but ultimately, as I approached the table I knew. I could at least . . . tell him part of it right? At nothing else I would feel better about it, and maybe I wouldn’t feel so awkward every time he walked around in just his underwear. I pulled out my chair and sat down just as he came to the table with a final dish. He put it onto the table and then sat down across from me. He had changed from his dress clothes into a cream/gray sweater and dark blue jeans. Honestly, I was a bit surprised. He didn’t usually wear that much clothing once he got home, but I guess today he was just feeling fashionable. Either way, his body was still too large to conceal. His sweater was filled out and I could see loose outlines of his shape and masculine build. “Did you fall asleep again?” He asked beaming his eyes at me. His face was striking honestly. His beard, his eyes, his jawline, everything. “No not quite, I just sat for a few minutes.” I said putting food onto my plate looking down. I really didn’t mean for there to be any subtext to that statement but apparently he found some. “I know I asked this earlier, but are you okay?” I looked up holding a spoon in my hand. Was this it? Was this the moment? My face flushed and butterflies flew through my stomach at the thought of actually being honest with my dad. “You’ve just seemed a bit off today, are you sure everything is okay?” He took a quick sip of his wine before placing it back down. Silence fell between us, clearly indicating there was some hesitation on my end. I thought I would slowly work my way into this topic, but . . . I guess there was just no waiting. I put the bowl and spoon down and looked up at my dad, whose expression was neutral, but tinged with a hint of concern. My palms began to sweat as I thought of how to phrase what I wanted to say. My throat knotted up and I could feel my heart pounding against my chest, part in eagerness and part in fear. I was an idiot for doing this, but my lips started to move and, almost as though a flood gate had opened, I couldn’t hold myself back any longer. After all of these months, I finally answered my father honestly. “Actually, um . . . there is something I wanted to talk to you about. . .” I began as I took a deep, hopefully discrete, breath in. Sitting across from me my dad looked so fashionable, large, confident, and mature. Was I really about to say this? For a brief second I hesitated and thought of what else I could say instead. Maybe school was getting tough, or I was having issues with a friend and needed his advice? As all of these different thoughts ran through my head I couldn’t help but feel a sense of avoidance. I had been avoiding talking to my dad about this for so long, I didn’t know how much longer I could bottle it all up. I needed to be honest. I rolled my lips, my mouth going dry, and I swallowed nervously. “Alright so this is going to be a bit . . . odd I guess, but I have been thinking about it for a while and I just want to say it.” My palms became tingly as more adrenalin hit me. “Hey, whatever it is, we can talk about it. If something is bothering you, you can tell me!” He sat up slightly. My mouth hung open for a few seconds as I tried to formulate the right words to use. Trying to let out some of the built-up energy I was pressing my right foot into my left foot hard enough that I should have felt discomfort, but I was too distracted. “Um . . . okay so, lately, over the past few months . . .” This was it. After all of these months, all of my fantasies of being honest, I was finally going to say it. An almost blind confidence came over me, somehow pushing me to blurt out a coherent thought. “You’ve really found a passion for working out over the past few years, but in the past months you’ve really started to well, um . . .” I gestured my hand looking for the right word. “Show progress.” I decided. My dad’s look went from one of concern and near sick to a calmer, albeit curious expression. His face fell into a frown of confusion for a moment before asking, “Well thank you.” He laughed or a second. “But, how does that relate to you?” He adjusted in his seat, sitting up straighter, his sweater bending against his body. I had already started the conversation and, even if I wasn’t fully honest, I had to at least say enough so that I could stop thinking about it. “Well, I don’t know a good way to say it, but basically, since you’ve started working out you’ve made a lot of progress, I mean awesome, but I have been feeling a bit . . . confused lately I guess. I think that’s the best word I know to use for it.” My legs were trembling so hard under the table I was surprised they weren’t making more noise. My shoulders began to tremble as well. I knew what I was trying to say but I could tell I was making as much sense to him as I was to myself. “Oh, well confused how?” He didn’t seem at all put off, but instead curious. So far so good. “You know, okay, let me put it this way. I’m not saying any of this in a bad way, if anything I think the transformation you’ve made is great! But that’s kind of why I am confused. A year and a half ago you would work out and come home, nothing overly noteworthy. But then a few months ago you started to . . .” I almost choked on my words. “Show a bit more. I mean it’s hard to hide I guess. But lately I’ve been feeling a bit conflicted. I’m in college apparently at the peak of my athletic skills, and at 53 you’ve managed to get really, really, fit.” I was about to pause but he nodded his head for me to continue and finish my thought. “So, I guess I’m just confused because at 53 you have gotten really, well, muscular.” My heart sped up at the compliment. “And on the one hand, it’s kind of weird because you know usually guys in their 20s are more athletic than their dads, but on the other hand I actually . . . admire the progress you’ve made.” My speech had started to noticeably speed up. I nodded my head as though to say, “That’s all.” “So yeah, that’s how I’m feeling I guess.” I allowed myself to catchy my breath as he looked down at his wine glass for a second, clearly pondering over what I had just said. Had I said too much? I thought I had sounded normal, and hopefully, somewhat restrained. “Okay so . . .” He started to rock his head back and forth as though a rather simple solution were in reach. “You feel confused, but I guess I’m a bit confused too.” He let out a small chuckle as he spun his wine glass in his hand. “Did I make you uncomfortable somehow?” “No.” I responded a bit too quickly. “No, sorry I’m not being clear, it’s just, I admire what you’ve been able to do but at the same time . . .” “Oh.” He said as though having an embarrassing realization. He blushed slightly. “Do . . .” he hesitated on the next few words he was going to say. “Does it bother you?” He asked almost bashfully. I needed to use the right words, but I was afraid to. How could I be fully honest with my dad about something like this? I had always been incredibly honest with my dad but this was going into new territory I wasn’t sure about. We’re both men. Could I really tell him that he made me feel like less of a man? “I guess I just don’t fully understand what you are saying, but I get at least, that somehow, I’ve done something.” He leaned forward a bit, placing his arms into his lap, flaring out his triceps causing his sweater sleeves to expand under their flexed mass. I paused for a second. We were already into the conversation so it was too late now. I had started it, I might as well keep going, even if his arms were already making me sweat, I knew I would feel better after. “That makes it sound bad. What I mean is . . .” I breathed in and tried to feel as calm as I could so I could say this clearly. “I feel like at 20 something, I should be more muscular and athletic, but I look at you at 53 and, dad, you have a 6-pack. Like you have the build I’m supposed to have at 20, well but you’re even more built than that really. So in a way I kind of feel . . . like . . .” I knew the exact word I wanted but settled for a compromise. “Lesser I guess. I look at what you have been able to accomplish and it’s awesome, truly. There is a part of me though, that feels weird about it. You’re 53, a doctor, and more athletic than I am. But then that’s where my confusion starts.” My thoughts and speech were started to slow and become clearer. “It’s actually kind of what I just said I suppose. You know looking at it objectively: you are 53, you are a doctor, and you still have abs somehow, that most dudes in college are trying to get. So yeah in ways it makes me feel kind of . . . insecure is a good word for it if I’m being honest, but then I also feel . . . I don’t know it’s cool. You are 53 and are more athletic than most guys I know who are less than half your age. It’s awesome you’ve been able to workout so much. You’re smart and . . .” I nearly choked, but managed to disguise it with a pause. “Pretty buff.” I said laughing nervously as I looked down. My clarity was starting to turn back into racing thoughts as I allowed myself to process the honesty I had just used. Holy shit. After months of feeling insecure and unsure of how to approach my dad, if I should at all, I had just told him how I felt. Not entirely, and not the full extent, but close enough. Closer than I had come up to this point. Still, in being so honest, I was afraid of how he would react. I had done my best to say it in a neutral way, but what if he read into it the wrong way? I didn’t want him to feel bad. “Well,” He finally spoke looking down at his hands and then back up at me, his worry had seemed to alleviate somewhat. “First, thank you’re for the compliments, I’ve worked hard so good to know it’s paying off. More importantly though, I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel that way, I . . .” He shook his head looking for the right words. “I guess maybe I shouldn’t just walk around here in my boxers, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” “That’s the thing though, and I what I am trying to say. Yes, I feel insecure when I see how big you’ve gotten, but at the same time I like it.” “Like it?” He asked quizzically. “Like how?” He asked tilting his head, seemingly in genuine curiosity. Maybe I was going to have to be more honest than I was already comfortable with. To be clear, it was not lost on me that my honesty up to this point had largely been unintelligible rambling. “Well okay, you’ve been wearing more tanks lately. At first when I see how large your arms have gotten that’s when I think, gee I’m 20 and don’t look anything like that. My dad is 53 and has way better arms than I do. But then I think, damn, he’s a doctor and looks that good even over 50. So it’s not that I mind you showing your results, I’m just saying it is a bit confusing that I have both of these feelings at the same time. But between the two, I’d say the admiration is stronger. I’m not asking you to change anything or do anything differently . . .” I took a controlled breath in, perhaps the first I had taken in this entire conversation. I paused and allowed my mind to catch up. Despite my nerves and rapid heartbeat, I was somehow calm and articulate. I didn’t really know where this was coming from, but I sure as hell was not going to question it. “I just have been feeling a bit self-concious about it lately, so I just wanted to be honest.” I nodded my head at him, indicating, in a nutshell, that’s how I felt. “As I said, if it makes you uncomfortable I feel bad about that . . . but, I almost get the idea it’s not discomfort per se. You said you might feel a bit insecure, but, at the same time it doesn’t bother you I wear say tank top or . . . I guess if I don’t wear a shirt. Does it bother you if I don’t wear a shirt?” He asked to clarify. “No, I mean if you want to walk around without one, go for it. Like I said, I just get a little self-concious that . . .” I trailed off afraid to finish my sentence. “That . . .” he pressed slightly. “That . . .” I blinked, finally letting go of my restraint. He wanted an answer, and we had already come too far. “I actually don’t mind when you do. Does that make any sense?” “Okay!” He said as though finally solving a puzzle, which given how I was talking it was a bit of one. His face lit up and his overall mood seemed to switch from quizzical and unsure, to confident and almost, happy? “I think I understand you now.” He let out another laugh, and sat back in his chair crossing his legs under the table. “You do?” I asked a bit unsure of if he really did or not. “Yeah, I think I do, and listen it’s okay.” He reassured me as he brought his eyes back up to me. “I think I can piece together what you are saying. You are a bit insecure now that I’ve started working out more, but there is a part of you that doesn’t mind it.” He said reiterating what I had said before. “So . . . can I ask you a direct question?” He asked looking at me with a more neutral expression, but his overall tone hadn’t seemed to have shifted. I was a bit hesitant to respond in my head, but out loud I responded, “Sure.” “You said you are insecure about me being, well a bit more athletic lately, but you also said you don’t mind it. So do you not mind when I walk around with, say, a tank or without a shirt all together?” He crossed his arms over and put them on the table as he leaned on his elbows. “Yeah I mean, that’s kind of what I was saying before. I think it’s cool.” “So you are okay feeling a little insecure, that doesn’t bother you?” “No, it’s okay like I said the other side of it outweighs that.” I said starting to blush at his pressing questions. “You used the word admiration before. So when I get home and just change into my boxers, you . . . well I’ll ask, you like how I look?” He asked directly. I paused, a bit taken aback by his sudden directness. “Um, well, I . . .” I stammered. “Let me try it this way. You say you feel insecure when you see my body since I started working out, but if you also admire my progress, that must mean you don’t mind how I look either.” He said trying to direct my words. Sensing hesitation from me and let out a small laugh and then looked back up at me. “Like I said it’s okay . . .” he prefaced. “You like how my body looks since I started working out right?” He said looking at me following his blunt statement. “I didn’t say that exactly, I just said . . .” “Dude, it’s okay, you can be honest, you don’t need to feel embarrassed about it.” He said calmly and casually. “Well I just meant that, you’ve put in a lot of work and it’s inspiring.” I said trying to suddenly back track out of the conversation that I had started. We were starting to float into the zone I was trying to avoid. I wanted to be honest, but only to a certain degree. “Listen, it’s okay to admire my progress, you don’t need to be shy about it.” Even though he said this as normally as he would have said anything else, I couldn’t help but notice the cockiness of his words that he said so nonchalantly. My dad had become secure enough in his muscular body he could be cocky and not really think anything of it. In his mind, of course I would admire his work, why wouldn’t why? That only added to my level of fascination. He was hot, and he knew it. “I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” I said highlighting the irony of using his own words on him. “You’ve worked really hard to get to where you are, and I just feel bad . . .” “Why though? Like I’ve said I really don’t mind.” “Okay.” I interjected a bit hastily, somewhat embarrassed that he had managed to get this out of me. It was more than I had been ready to admit. Still, I couldn’t deny, it felt good to finally get this out in the open. If I hadn’t been fully honest I just would have bottled more of this up and the process would have repeated. This was better. I was finally able to be honest with him. But I need to make sure we were on the same picture, and I wasn’t just taking his words to confirm my own thoughts. “I guess just to clarify, you don’t mind what?” Realizing I cut him off, I spoke a bit softer. “You admiring my new physique.” He said point-blank almost as though this had been clearly established. “It won’t make me uncomfortable, and . . .” He rolled his lips deciding if he should continue or not. I looked up unsure of what to say, why would he hesitate all of a sudden? For as nervous as I had been, that is how cool he had been up to this point. He nodded his head, having found the right way to phrase it, and gestured his hands from side to side as though telling me something awkward but something that needed to be said all the same. “It hasn’t made me uncomfortable up to this point.” My eyes widened almost by instinct. My mind went blank. For a second I just sat in my chair entirely unsure of what to say or do. Had . . . had my dad caught me before? “You . . .” I started, elongating the vowel unable to put more words in front of it. My dad started to laugh again, like someone had told a funny, but satisfying ending to a long story. “Alright, I’m trying to be sensitive given what you’ve said, but I’m just going to be honest. If you want to check out my progress sometimes that’s okay. Your old man has some big guns, it’s okay to look.” As he said this he brought his arm just barely off of the table and flexed his right arm. Even under his sweater I could still see his arm expand with power and muscle as he flexed it. Even in a large sweater my dad’s muscles still looked like they were going to come through the seams. “And that doesn’t bother you at all?” I asked in genuine amazement, given that he was essentially telling me something I had thought was taboo for so long was . . . apparently completely understandable. “No! Honestly, I wish you had told me sooner that you were feeling so insecure about this. You don’t have to feel bad about checking out my body. Hell I flex in front of the mirror every night, I get it.” He said leaning back in his chair. My dad was not a “bro” per se, but the tone he had just used was one of the most bro-like things I think I’ve ever heard come out of his mouth. Again, he wasn’t outwardly cocky necessarily, but he had adopted a new casual cockiness that was so . . . exhilarating. Now granted I had never seen nor have I seen my dad flex in the mirror, but I’m pretty sure a few years ago he wouldn’t have done it. Especially not every night if he did. Still following this statement I was almost a bit unsure of how to respond. I had been afraid to mention me checking him out, but he brought it up so easily and apparently didn’t have the first problem with it. Luckily after a moment, he broke the silence and I didn’t have to say anything. “So yeah if that’s all that’s bothering you don’t worry about it. Besides, like I said, I’ve caught you checking my arms when I stretch, it’s cool.” “I’m just glad it’s not a problem. I still feel kind of bad, but I’m glad I finally got this off of my chest.” “Exactly, don’t sweat it.” He smiled as he took another sip of his wine. Suddenly a very bad thought went through my mind. One I couldn’t act on, but I wanted to. I had already started the conversation and my dad had already dismissed my apologies multiple times. My whole body felt liked folding in on itself as a rush of heat spread across my limbs. My brain was basically drowning in adrenalin at this point, and my better judgement was a bit cloudy. Still my palms got sweaty again and I could feel my chest get tighter as I considered taking a gamble. A big one. Maybe I didn’t have to confess everything to him . . . maybe I could ask. Just as he put his glass back down and swallowed his wine I tried to appear as calm as I could as I asked: “So to that end actually, you said it’s not a big deal.” What the hell was I about to do?! I knew somewhere deep in my mind this was a bad idea, but I couldn’t help it. I had to at least try. “This might be kind of awkward, and I totally get if you think it’s weird,” he narrowed his eyes slightly and tilted his head. “but . . . you know I really do admire all of the work you’ve put in to getting so in-shape, I guess I’m . . .” At this point my brain was on autopilot, it was almost surreal. My urges were overpowering my logical thoughts, but I still couldn’t quite bring myself to ask the question I had been wanting to ask for months. Ever since I saw my father shirtless for the first time. A second passed and I brought my eyes back to his. He was being patient to say the least. “Ugh never mind, I’m just playing around.” I abruptly, and awkwardly, blurted out. I caved. How on earth was I ever going to ask my dad to flex? It was a stupid idea to say the least, and an even worse ending to my proposition that I didn’t finish. “Oh my gosh,” my dad laughed and leaned his head back a little with a smile. “You were going to ask something, you don’t need to be nervous. I’m serious whatever it is, I’d rather you say it so it won’t bother you anymore. Like a minute ago, you were worrying all this time about checking my physique out, and I couldn’t care less. So go ahead, if you have a concern or a question, say it.” He said in a supportive and caring tone. “You’ve really packed on more mass lately, and it’s pretty cool, so I was just wondering if . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to ask, but apparently I didn’t need to. He let out a small grunt and laugh, putting his head back and then looking back at me, relaxed and calmer than he had been a second ago. “Do you want to see me flex?” He asked, knowing he was taking the words right out of my mouth. My shoulders contracted and my throat seemed to get tight. He had gotten cockier since he started lifting and it was hard not be drawn to it. He was so confident, so strong. I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as I crossed my arms over. “You know, you ugh . . . took the words right out of me. I know it’s a bit weird.” Ignoring my hesitation, he grimaced at me for a moment, dismissing my worries, before letting a coy smile come across his face. “I’ll flex.” He said with complete confidence and calmness. He then brought his right arm up and flexed his bicep. Even under his sweater, the large mass of muscle contracted and pushed up on the fabric. The sleeve rose and peaked along with his powerful, peaked bicep. My father’s biceps had to at least be 17 or 18 inches. They were so large, and even in his sweater I could clearly see the peak and the bottom of his triceps as they strained the fabric. He had only flexed his right bicep, but already I felt small and powerless in his presence. “See?” He asked as he raised his left arm and formed a full double bicep. Across the table, my father was flexing his large biceps, showing the span of his arms and his lats. He was a tall man, and had managed to build his long arms into masculine, powerful bands of muscle. Looking at his with a wide torso, and his raised, pumped arms, he looked so authoritative. He was only flexing, but I could feel just how much more of a man he was than me. All of this time, I had wanted to see him flex, I had fantasized about it. And now he was doing it as though it were nothing out of the ordinary. “I don’t think you believe me. If you want to check out my body,” he brought his eyes to mine and elongated his arms before contracting them again. “Or if you want to see me flex, I really don’t care.” “Damn.” I breathed out with a small laugh. “So you really are totally okay with all of this.” “Totally. I’ve worked hard to get a body like this so if anything I take it as a compliment.” “Well, you look . . . great!” I complimented. He lowered his imposing arms down to his side but he didn’t break his eyes from mine. “So is that really all you wanted to see?” He raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” I asked. “Well you’ve been holding that in all this time, and you just wanted to see me flex my arms?” “Oh, I was just curious like I said, I . . . yeah that . . .” “I can take my sweater off.” He offered casually as though offering me dessert. “You don’t need to do that.” I lied blushing. “Alright.” He lowered his head slightly and got a mischievous grin on his face. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but if you ask, it is getting a bit warm in here. But I know I’ve been getting a lot more vascular lately, and that might be kind of freaky.” He took a sip of his wine, not letting his eyes escape mine. “I don’t think they’re freaky.” I responded. “It’s pretty . . . you know, masculine I think.” “So just ask.” He laughed slightly as he slowly pulled the wine glass away from his mouth and nodded at me in confirmation. How was this happening? After all of these months of trying to steal looks, or turn my head away at just the right time, my dad was willing to show me his muscles? Was it really that easy? Is that all I had to do this entire time? My mind was overrun with thoughts I couldn’t process. Okay . . . after all these months I guess I was really about to ask what I had only dreamed of asking the man sitting across from me. “Dad, could you take off your sweater?” I asked nearly doubling over in my seat from the rush of energy and adrenalin. It felt so good to finally ask him. To finally be honest and admit how much I admired his body. “See! That wasn’t so hard!” He said rolling his eyes and smiling as he stood up from his chair and brought his hands down to his waistline before lifting the sweater off of his hulking frame. I guess I hadn’t really thought it over much, but I didn’t think of what my dad would be wearing under his sweater. I had assumed he was, well, not wearing anything. Somewhat to my dismay he had a black t-shirt on under it. He pulled the sweater off and suddenly his large, masculine, striated arms came into view. As he finished pulling his sweater off, he put it on the chair he was just sitting in. Looking at him now though, I have to admit, the shirt was not all bad. It only came halfway down between his shoulders and biceps. It emphasized the impressive size of his trained arms and hugged against his abs and chest as though it were glued to him. My dad had to have known it clung to his body. He was comfortable enough in his own skin to wear clothes that would show just how ripped he had gotten. A few years ago he would have never worn such a thing. Before I could process enough to say anything he extended his right arm out away from his waist and gripped his fist. His bicep and tricep became distinct muscles and formed cuts along his arm, leading to the many veins that covered his forearm. “Like I said, I’ve been getting a lot more vascular lately. I like having all of these veins. What do you think?” He said looking at his pumped forearm before turning towards me. It seemed like the first time I had been given permission to actually look at his body but some part of me was still hesitant to do so from the long habit I had established. All the same, I looked along his extended arm and took in all of the minute details of his chiseled arm. “I meant what I said,” I giggled in slight amazement. “They really make you seem . . . like . . . built you know?” I tried to repeat the word, “masculine,” but my mouth couldn’t quite get around the word. I was so taken aback that this was actually happening. I figured this wouldn’t last much longer though so I just tried to savor the moment. “Yeah I really like it. I’ve been getting more veins all over honestly.” He said somewhat distracted as he looked up and down both of his arms. He brought both arms down by his sides and turned his fists away from his torso so that his triceps flared out from the side of his already tight sleeves. The back and side of his forearms seemed to separate into multiple groups and bands of muscle, covered in the veins I had just admired. “I’ve been trying to add size lately, and I think it’s starting to show.” He brought his arms up for a double bicep pose as he looked along his right and left pumped arms. His arms formed a beautiful, hard peak. He brought his eyes back to me and smiled. As he rose his arms up his tight shirt strained against his torso and lifted above his belt. I could see a small amount of skin around his abs, but couldn’t really make anything out. Even if I had been able to I couldn’t take my eyes away from my father’s flexed arms. They were so large and full of power. To be clear, my dad’s biceps weren’t just sizeable. They looked like arms that belonged on a competitive bodybuilder. Well, I guess at this point, that is what my dad looked like in general. So dry, full, and cut, his arms were beautiful and manly. “Damn, you have really gotten bigger lately.” I affirmed. “Your arms are . . .” I stopped myself and rethought my word choice. “They’re great.” I said clearly hiding a word preference. “Dude, you don’t need to feel weird about it. You can complement your old man’s arms, that’s fine. I mean I’m flexing them right? I’m just showing off my hard work, you can admire it.” He said very smoothly and permissibly. “Okay.” I said with a nod, cracking a devious smile. The surreal feeling of the situation was starting to fade into a more intense reality sensation. This was happening and my father was completely fine with it. I could even compliment him if I wanted to. He slowly lowered his arms down and let them come downtown his side as his eyes fell in thought for a moment. “So, can I ask you a question actually?” He said squinting slightly, looking at his glass of wine. I was a bit nervous about what he was going to ask given the last 2 minutes of our conversation. I had already been more honest with him than I had intended to be. What else did he want to know? “Of course, I guess we are being kind of honest with one another at this point, right?” “Exactly, and so that’s why I’m just wondering . . . does it bother you that I’ve gotten so built up lately?” He looked back up at me with a look of genuine concern and curiosity. “Bother me?” I squinted in confusion. “I just wonder if seeing your dad . . . with such large muscles might be a lot for a guy in his 20s. You mentioned that you feel like you should be the one with the ripped body, and yet, it’s me. Does that bother you?” I thought for a moment of how to word my response. “Honestly?” I rolled my lips tightly, I knew I was about to be honest with him, on the one hand it was nerve wracking and on the other hand it felt so liberating. “No.” I said keeping my eyes locked on him, resisting the urge to let them study his arms propping his figure against the table. “I mean, kind of. When I look at you, I start to feel kind of insecure as a guy you know? You have a great body and at 53 you are walking around unafraid to show off all of your gains. Meanwhile I feel self-conscious when I take my shirt off in public or at home for that matter. Despite those feelings though, I look at you and how confident and manly you are. Most guys your age have given up on getting in shape, and instead, you have a body most 20 year olds would kill to have. It’s really strange honestly, but . . . like when we went to the beach a few weeks ago for spring break, and everyone was eyeing you as we walked around. It is almost . . . I don’t know what word to put to it exactly, I’m not even entirely sure what this feeling is. But it’s “cool”, I guess, to see people look at your body. And then I think about it, and for some reason, it doesn’t bother me. You are a doctor, a really smart one at that, and you can go to a beach and rip off your shirt and get all of that attention. You are stronger than me, bigger than me, and that should bother me in a bad way, but . . . I guess . . . I don’t mind.” I began my response with a shaky breath but managed, by the end of it, to have a pretty steady voice. I had been honest with my dad, and it felt like a weight being lifted off of my shoulders. “So, me being stronger, more muscular, that doesn’t bother you?” he asked looking for another confirmation. “No. I like that you are so strong. It’s . . . nice. I look at how big and ripped you are, and I can only imagine how strong you have to be at this point.” I rubbed my nose and sniffed for a second before looking back up at him. “I feel . . .” I paused unable to continue my thought. I wasn’t sure if I could say it. To my surprise though, my dad didn’t interject or ask me to finish my thought. I decided to compromise. “Like alright, right now, seeing you in that tight shirt, flexing your arms, you just look so . . . manly, and strong you know?” “So when I flex or wear tight clothes to show off a little, you are okay with it?” “So you do like to show off?” I asked with a sharp smile. For once I had asked him a question. He opened his mouth and let out a laugh for a second. “You know, after a long day at work, it’s kind of nice to come home and just . . . appreciate the work I’ve put in.” He said carefully. “Well in any case I don’t mind.” I said affirmatively, blushing as I said it. “Good.” He smiled at me pulling his arms away from the table. “I wouldn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. Regarding something else you said though, I guess on the flip side of what you said. You said you like how strong I am, and how ripped I’ve gotten?” He asked with a straight face, but in a light tone. “Yeah, you just . . . you look good.” “Honestly, I have to tell you, I feel good too.” He stood up straight, as his chest filled the front of his tight shirt. It looked like the fabric could barely contain his large pecs. “I have more energy now than I did in my 20s, I have more endurance throughout the day, I feel more alert. Just, overall, I feel fantastic since I started to workout more. And looking in the mirror at night has gotten a bit easier.” We both laughed, but my laugh was noticeably more nervous than his was. “Yeah you know, after two years of lifting and getting bigger . . . fuck I feel good for 53.” I confessed, oddly seeming like had gotten something off of his chest that he had wanted to say. Very ironic given the situation. “You should, I mean dad, I’m 21 and . . . you are so much stronger than I am.” I admitted allowing a small rush of heat to run through me. “You’re probably stronger than most of the guys at school honestly.” “Thanks.” He laughed and blushed slightly, for the first time seeming shy at one of my compliments. “To that end though . . .” I had already pushed the envelope numerous times and it seemed as though my dad was willing to go along with most of it. I wondered if I could push one more time. “This is kind of weird to ask but, you are clearly really . . . strong. I’ve wondered, what it would it be like to . . . well, arm-wrestle.” I proposed not able to look at him. A small silence fell over the table but after a moment my dad cracked a smile. “You want to arm-wrestle me?” He said in confusion, his tone highlighting his awareness of how much larger than me he was. “We both said, you have gotten really fit lately, I’m just curious how fit you’ve gotten. A more . . . measurable way to gauge it I guess.” “I’m down don’t get me wrong . . . but.” He relaxed his stance slightly, “no offense, but you won’t budge my arm.” “I just want to try.” I rebutted with a slight smile, and a surprisingly casual tone given how on-edge I felt. He paused for a moment and then walked around to my side of the table and pulled out the chair next to me. I put my elbow on the table and arched my hand towards him. My father’s large frame moved forward as he placed his monstrously large arm onto the table. Despite its size and mass, he placed it onto the table quietly and delicately. I was trying to conceal the joy I was feeling in that moment. My fantasies got cut short earlier, but a time or two I have wondered what it would be like to wrestle my dad. I knew he could pin me so easily with his powerful body, and somehow that feeling of emasculation was . . . exhilarating. I scooted myself forward slightly so that we could lock palms. Already his palm felt harder and firmer than mine. I knew what was about to happen. “Are you ready?” He asked trying to hide a cocky smile. “3, 2, 1, go!” With that both of our arms tensed as we applied as much force as we could against the other. That is to say, I applied as much as I could against him. My dad’s arm was barely budging. I squeezed against his palm and tried to force my forearms and biceps to move as much as they could, but my dad’s hand wouldn’t even budge. It was like trying to push against a brick wall. I grunted as I exerted more force. He let out a small chuckle as he avoided eye contact with me. In a way I almost felt awkward. I was arm-wrestling my dad and enjoying every second of it. I couldn’t budge him at all, and somehow that feeling of powerlessness was intoxicating. “Damn you’re strong!” I said trying one last time to budge him. I even lifted my body up slightly to give myself more leverage, but to no avail. Another second or two passed before my dad finally looked at me, his arm still firmly in place. “Dad a bit stronger than you had expected?” He said clearly savoring the moment, but trying not to be too forward about it. Before I could answer his grip tightened and my hand moved backwards until it was flat on the table. With almost no effort he had overpowered me. He released his hand and I pulled mine back. He had won so easily, and was even kind of cocky about it. I couldn’t believe an hour ago I was only thinking about these things, and now, I was living them out. I had taken a chance by asking him, but I had wanted to challenge him to an arm-wrestling match for so long. It is was so satisfying to be able to finally ask him, and feel just how powerful of a grip he had. He was right: he was stronger than I had expected. “You weren’t kidding!” I confessed as I pointed to his right arm. “You really have been hitting it lately.” “I warned you!” He said widening his eyes dramatically. “I have to say though, I’m glad that this doesn’t bother you. Me working out so much could be a bit off-putting I guess, or intimidating, but you really don’t seem to mind, which is a relief I guess. Still I wish you had talked to me sooner. You didn’t need to spend all of this time feeling self-conscious.” “I couldn’t agree more actually. It is a huge relief that . . . I guess that we can talk about it.” My mind started to trail for a minute. I had one last idea. “Exactly. You don’t need to feel bad any of it. It’s a change so I’m glad we are on the same page.” He sat back in the chair for a second while I pondered over my next question. “Well . . . that being the case.” My throat ran dry and my arms started to tremble. I was about to ask him something I had only ever thought about. Something I had wanted to ask willingly for months. My tongue felt like sand paper against the roof of my mouth and my teeth almost started to click from the built up nerves. “If . . .” I nearly choked on my words, but I was able to swallow without making too much of a wince. “If neither of us really care . . . would you mind . . . uhm.” I paused one final time before letting the words leave my lips. “Would you mind taking your shirt off?” The next half second of silence between us felt like an eternity. I had asked the question and there was no coming back from it. As soon as the last syllable left my mouth a certain sobriety seemed to hit me. What the hell was I doing?! I had asked him to take his sweater off already, and then I asked him to arm wrestle?! Suddenly I almost felt like I had come out of a dream and I was just now realizing where I was. In fact, this was the part where I should have snapped out of my day dream. But this was not a day dream like before. I had actually just asked my father to take his shirt off. It almost felt like my entire body had frozen over as I waited, only a half second, for his response. My dad turned his head slightly to the side and looked at me, clearly not expecting that question, but not put off by it either. “You want me to take my shirt off?” He asked more to confirm he had herd correctly, what else would he have heard, and that I wasn’t confused. “Ugh,” my mind was still coming terms with the sudden realization of what I had asked him and I couldn’t formulate my thoughts. His face seemed to lighten as he leaned forward slightly. “You just want to see my abs.” he said letting a smile come across his face. My lucidness hadn’t quite left me yet, so whereas before I had been playing into the moment, I was suddenly feeling a cold feet. I had already been able to see my dad flex his biceps and arm-wrestle him, there was part of me that wanted to back out now before I said anything else that might ruin this. Things were fine now, I should probably leave them. “I mean hey, if me having an 8-pack and a big chest doesn’t bother you . . .” He brought his hand to the bottom of his shirt just as he had his sweater and pulled up on the tight black t-shirt. Less than a second later he had already pulled it over his head and off of his now bare torso. He lowered his arms down and simply let the shirt fall onto the floor next to his chair. “. . . I’d rather have my shirt off anyway.” He finished with a tone of sincerity. He extended his arms so they were parallel with his legs and clenched his fists so that his arms, pecs, abs, and lats all flexed into hardened groups of striated muscles. My father’s bare torso suddenly seemed to swell up. His forearms and biceps expanded, causing his veins to become even more apparent than they had been before. His chest tightened into two large, rounded mounds, save for a dent that formed at the edge of each of his chest muscles. His nipples were hard and pointed, fitting for his hard and masculine looking pecs. His 8 pack was on full display, with the lines that separated his abs carving out each one. For as pumped and rounded as his chest was, that was how flat and cut his abs were. The amazing thing was, like I had explained before, my dad wasn’t just fit. He had the body of a full on bodybuilder. His entire body was covered in striated groups of hard muscles that grew as he flexed them. No wonder I had lost with such ease against him, he looked so dominant and powerful. He didn’t just look powerful though, he was. Watching him flex was even more mesmerizing than I had expected. He brought his eyes away from his tensed muscles and back to me, but I didn’t’ even stop looking, how could I? “You liking the gains?” He said in an exaggerated bro voice. “Damn, I honestly don’t think I’ve seen somebody that cut in real-life before.” I confessed taken in by his show of manliness. “Yeah your dad didn’t used to have abs like these did he?” He flattened his stomach and ran his hand over his shredded abs before lowering both hands down towards his belt. He started to bounce his large pecs. Now on some men this would just cause their chest to move slightly. But on my dad, his entire chest seemed to lift up and fall back into place. The entire muscle rippled as he bounced them in sequence. He sat up in the chair as he did, his pecs continued to flex and release, all the while his abs were still visible. Watching my dad bounce his pecs shirtless in front of me, seeing his tanned, sculpted body, I felt a striking, but wonderful, feeling of emasculation. I should be the one with the large muscles and cocky attitude, but instead it was him. My dad was hotter than I was without question. “Damn.” I muttered outload looking at his pecs move. “Oh sorry.” He leaned back in the chair and rose his arms so that his hands were on the back of his head. From there he flexed his arms, abs, and lats. Reclining back, my dad’s arms and torso flexed with testosterone pumped muscles. He lowered his head slightly, but never broke eye contact with me as he flexed his impressive arms. “You probably aren’t used to a man flexing his muscles like this are you?” “Honestly no.” I said with a shaky breath trying to control my breathing and racing heart. Even more than before my hesitation had become more apparent, and I could tell that he was thinking over something in his head. Through all of this, I have to admit, I was surprised at how calm my dad had been. “Tell you what,” He looked down at his socks, but his tone indicated that he had reached a conclusion. “You said this has been weighing on your mind for a while so I can imagine this has been a bit much for you.” He slowly stood up, allowing his body to flow out of the chair in a fluid motion that allowed his various muscle groups to flex and release. “One second we’re just eating dinner and the next, your dad is taking his shirt off to flex. To that end though, seriously don’t feel bad, if you want to check out my gains, go for it.” My eyes came to my dad’s belt and rested there for a moment. His jeans were tight against his built legs, but offered a stark contrast that only enhanced his masculine beauty. His legs and feet were covered, leaving a certain mystery to his body. In contrast, his torso was exposed, powerful, and undeniably strong. Somehow his casualness mixed with his bare chest emphasized his masculine authority. “I’m just happy that you are so, understanding, I guess is the word.” I admitted. “I suppose, but to be honest, I’ve seen you trying to sneak some glances so it’s not a total shock.” He said somewhat matter of factly lifting his eyebrows and scrunching his lips. “You’ve just really made a crazy transformation. It’s hard not to look sometimes. Even compared to the guys I see at our campus gym who are in college, you have a killer physique.” “Not to be conceited or anything, but it is nice sometimes knowing that you can outlift some of the younger guys. Guys in the gym are always surprised to find out how old I am, it’s a big compliment. Especially at my age, it’s a pretty great feeling to still have energy and confidence.” He blushed slightly and adjusted his weight. “I can imagine.” I widened my eyes and looked up at him. “You have to be insanely strong at this point. Your arms are the size of my legs.” I joked trying to slip a sly compliment. “Yeah I mean when I train I try not to just go for aesthetics. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy looking like this, but I also want to have the strength and utility that goes along with it.” “Trust me, I could tell when we arm-wrestled. It was like trying to move a brick wall.” “See! This isn’t all just for looks.” With that he flexed his right arm up making bicep swell up with definition and size. “It doesn’t look bad though.” I responded to his casual flexing. In that moment I couldn’t help but wonder. How strong had he gotten? How hard did his beautiful body feel? We seemed to be having a pretty open exchange, and my resolve had long been worn down. I was still too nervous to ask him what I had always wanted to, especially given how intimidating his body looked as he flexed. But he had already taken his shirt off and humiliated me in an arm-wrestling match, and seeing his half-naked muscular body was overwhelming my thoughts. I didn’t want to ask too much too quickly, which realistically we had long since passed. We passed that as soon as I asked my dad to take his sweater off. And yet, I wanted to feel just how powerful he was. How masculine had my now pumped father become? Seeing him look so manly was oddly intoxicating. I couldn’t resist how euphoric it felt to be submitted so easily. “I didn’t think you’d be so comfortable begin shirtless.” I confessed. “After a long day of working, and then working out before I come home, trust me, I’m ready to get rid of these clothes. So if you’d rather I walk around shirtless all the time, just get used to your old man with an 8-pack.” He paused for a second, looking to the side. “Along that line, not going to lie, I’d really rather not have these socks on all the time either.” My entire body trembled slightly, and my curiosity began to spike at the thought of what he might be alluding to. “Since I took my shirt off and arm-wrestled, I don’t suppose you’d mind paying me back with a foot massage?” The thought of being able to touch my dads feet gave me a feeling of excitement I almost struggled to hide. On top of his powerful, and muscular body, I couldn’t’ help but sometimes take a glance at his feet. “Yeah, I could do that.” I offered unable to restrain a small smirk. “Alright then.” He said with a hint of excitement, almost what one would hear if they had closed a business deal they had had to work towards getting. He moved his body, and extended his leg so that his right foot was now on my leg. His black sock was a stark contrast to his slate blue jeans. I nervously brought my hand to his foot and begin to apply pressure. I looked up slightly, and in my peripheral vision I could see my father’s bare torso, 8-pack, nipples, veins, biceps, and all. I dug my fingers into his dry socks. A faint aroma came across my nose. I continued to rub his right foot, working my way from his hard heel to his soft toes. I allowed my fingers to rub in between his toes against the fabric of his socks. “You said you wanted your socks off right?” I asked looking up for permission. “Yeah you can go ahead and take them off.” He permitted allowing his arms to fall to his side relaxing. I did as I was told and moved my hand up his leg to grasp the edge of the sock and I pulled it down his shaven leg and across his ankle before peeling it away from his foot. Part of the sock was a little damp against my skin. I dropped it onto the floor and continued to rub my fingers against his now bare foot. My dad’s bare foot contrasted even more against his jeans, and consequently against his exposed upper body, giving him a masculine appearance I couldn’t resist. I won’t lie, my dad shirtless and in jeans was one of the hottest things I had ever seen. I had seen him a time or two before, come out from his room in just his jeans and cook dinner. I could barely resist looking at his pecs and abs as he cooked, occasionally looking down at his exposed masculine feet. My dad shaved, likely to better see his muscles, but his feet still had hair on top, which I could feel as my fingers brushed against it. I never thought I would be giving a foot message to my shirtless father, but it was happening. I continued to rub his right foot for another minute or so before he raised up his left foot and had me repeat the process. The entire situation almost became too much for me. I was rubbing his soft, firm feet, taking glances at his body. I tried to be in the moment, and focus on the tips of my fingers as they dug against the soft part of his foot. He leaned his head back and seemed to immerse himself in the sensation of my hands rubbing against his feet. “You give one hell of a foot message.” He said with slight surprise. “If I had only known me being shirtless was the price for it.” He chuckled to himself. He opened his eyes slowly and thought for a moment before lowering his head back to look at me. I instinctively looked back down at his pants and then to my hands. I brought the entirety of his toes into my hand. “So, what do you think?” “About what exactly?” I asked applying more pressure, partially because I was nervous and didn’t know how to respond. “You know, this. At 52 your dad is a doctor and is shirtless with the body of a man your age. Do you feel okay?” He asked with the same concern he had shown earlier when I first brought all of this up. “I mean seeing you like this . . . just your bare feet and no shirt, it’s . . . pretty intimidating honestly. But cool. You look really,” I swallowed hard on just air, my mouth was too dry from my nerves. “manly.” “I kind of get the idea that you like that.” He said ironically laughing to himself. It seemed to break the tension a little and I couldn’t help but match his laugh. Even with just a simple laugh, I somehow felt better. It was almost as though he was acknowledging what I was too afraid to say. We were coming to a mutual understanding. “So what is it about my,” he looked for the right word for a moment, “masculinity that you like so much?” I asked in almost a base filled whisper. I paused rubbing his foot to reflect for a moment. I already knew the answer to his question, I had been asking and answering that same question for months. Ever since the first time he had taken his shirt of in front of me. I allowed my fingers to lightly caress down from his big toe to his heel as I spoke. “I guess . . . truthfully, it’s just cool to see an older guy have such a strong and youthful physique. On top of that you are a doctor, you are really fucking smart, and you still have the muscles of a professional athlete. It’s . . . exhilarating to see you like this. That said though, and to your point, it is intimidating. You are smarter than me and, I’m sitting here rubbing your feet knowing full well, you could totally overpower me with your body.” I laughed looking down as my finger reached the tip of his foot before putting my fingers back around his toes and stroking them. “Not that you would necessarily,” I began, allowing myself to be bolder than perhaps I should, “but if I had refused to rub your feet. And to be clear I wouldn’t because,” I put my fingers between his toes and squeezed them. “You have nice feet, you could have just . . . I don’t know . . .” “Overpowered you?” He said clearly. “Exactly.” I finally looked up and met his gaze. By now my body had released too many rushes of adrenalin, and I just felt in a constant state of heat and energy. But as I looked at his eyes, the energy seemed to become more focused. It wasn’t as wild and sporadic, it felt oddly calm. “I’m not going to tell you you’re wrong, after that arm-wrestling match, we both know,” my father struck a double bicep pose as I held his foot in my hands. “You might be younger, but daddy has the muscles.” Almost by reflex I audibly gulped as I saw his body become hard and striated. He lowered his defined and dry muscles down and looked back at me with a coy smile. “That does make me think though.” He folded his arms over. I don’t even need to explain to you how unbelievably attractive that was. I’m sure I already have. He adjusted himself slightly in the chair as I rubbed his foot slowly. “if you enjoy seeing me be so masculine . . . is this all you want? Or do you maybe want more?” He looked at me and suddenly this situation seemed much more communicative and official than it had a few moments ago. “More? As in . . .” My mind had already gone a thousand different directions, most of them to places I was too afraid to verbalize. “Well let’s start simple. I’m shirtless. Not to be too cocky, but . . . I’ve worked hard to get the results I have, I know I look good. So when I’m shirtless, sometimes I like to show off a bit.” I took a deep breath in. “So, I can put my shirt back on or . . . I could flex a little.” He sat up without breaking his gaze, lowering his foot from my hand. “I assume that would be okay with you?” “Of course.” I affirmed. He rubbed his hands together. “I don’t want to do too much though, are you sure that wouldn’t be too much?” He said lowering his voice. I starred at him for a moment, looking at my dad in just his feet, jeans, and naked torso. “No!” I calmly objected. “No . . . could you . . . flex your muscles?” I asked nervously. “Are you just afraid to say no because of my biceps?” He flashed a sultry smile. “You don’t have to be nervous . . . and besides, if watching your shirtless dad flex isn’t too much . . .” He stood up, causing his powerful body to tower over me. His pants were level with my face, and I couldn’t help but feel emasculated at the thought of what might be underneath. “We can still wrestle later.” I looked up at my dad, shirtless, barefoot, the most imposing I had ever seen him. All of the previous times I had seen him, even when he was just in his tight boxers, he was showing off his body but somewhat involuntarily. This time he knew I wanted to see more. I could almost feel his energy, his dominance. “So after all of this time, you finally have your dad shirtless in front of you. I still think it’s funny how you could have just asked me to take my shirt off and flex for you.” He held his vascular arms out to his side and flexed them in front of me while tensing his pecs and abs at the same time. My father’s entire torso was now flexed with vascular, masculine power. “And at least this time you don’t have to be afraid of looking.” He clarified calmly as he looked down at his arms, watching the veins erupt from his forearms and biceps. My father had the physique of a bodybuilder, there was no question given the size and definition of his arms. He changed his flex into a most muscular, flexing one arm at a time and putting them up to my face. He brought his left bicep to my face and flexed and unflexed it causing the large ball of muscle to drop and become firm in succession. It was mesmerizing to watch his arm shift. “Damn.” I breathed out. “Yeah that’s pretty awesome isn’t it?” He marveled at his own body. “Men half my age don’t have biceps this big.” He stood straight and then spun around on his foot to show his back to me. He put his left hand at a 180 angle with his body, putting his hand on his head, and then put his right arm at a 95 angle to flex his entire backside. Watching his back erupt with muscular definition made me feel the smallest I had ever felt in front of another man. So many muscles came into view my eyes didn’t even know where to begin admiring. Despite the sensory overload, I still processed how firm and full my dad’s jeans were. His ass was firm and filled the back of the jeans, leading down to his thick legs, and back down to his arched foot. I wanted to compliment him, but my mind had gone blank. My words seemed to be in a hazy scramble somewhere in the back of my mind. “I know you usually check my pecs and biceps, but you have to admit, my backs shredded.” He said turning his head across his arm. For the first time, since he had started lifting, I was starting to see a cockier side of my dad that I wasn’t used to. But it didn’t bother me. Despite my inability to form a coherent thought, I somehow managed to verbalize that last though, almost by instinct. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen or heard you so confident.” I quickly added, “I like it though! It’s cool to see you so confident and . . . powerful.” He pulled his left arm over so that he was no striking a back double bicep. “Well, when men half your age use words like intimidating and powerful to describe you,” he dropped his arms down and turned back towards me, this time flexing his biceps. “I admit it’s a bit hard not to get an ego boost.” He let me look over his biceps before dropping them. He moved his weight back slightly, extending his left leg for support. “It’s interesting though. You seem a little bit conflicted.” “How’s that?” I asked raising an eyebrow at his remark. “You say that my body is powerful and intimidating, and yet you’ve been trying to sneak peaks at me for months. You know I could overpower you, you know how much stronger I am than you, and something about that just drives you crazy doesn’t it?” “It is conflicting I suppose. But like I’ve said, I like it. It’s a bit scary thinking that your dad has the body of a college bodybuilder, but . . . it’s nice. I like that you are the man of the house.” At the end of my last compliment my dad’s face seemed to light up. He thought for a moment before speaking. “Good. I’m glad you like it.” He bounced his large, hard pecs. “And all the better that we agree who the man is here. “When you bounce your chest like that trust me, it’s clear.” I sat up a bit in the chair. “So,” I swallowed with shocking control. “I am a bit curious . . . could you take your pants off?” My body mustered up enough energy to send heat back through my body for the first time in quite a while. I was being bold, but somehow I knew he wouldn’t mind. If anything, I figured we were already this far in, how much bolder could I really get. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?” My dad seemed to be an expert at asking these kinds of questions in such a caring manner despite probably wanting to take them off anyway. “Yeah. Whenever your just in your boxers, you seem so . . . manly.” “Do you want me to just be in my boxers?” He asked in a rasp. I paused for a moment. “Is that okay?” I looked over his pants. “Totally, I’d rather be in my boxers anyway. The real question is though,” he put his hand onto his hips and spread his legs slightly. “How emasculated do you want to feel while you take them off of me?” My eyes shot up to meet his. “You want me to take them off?” “If you think you can handle that.” He lowered his arms back to his side and stepped forward until his body was over my legs. I was sitting, but his body was towering over mine. My face, my lips, were only centimeters away from his abs. He stayed there for a moment, I could smell his cologne radiating from his incredible body. I had never been so close to a man, my body was nearly short-circuiting. “If you want to see me in my boxers, you’ll have to take off my belt first.” He whispered. Doing as he instructed I pulled my hands up and placed them around his belt. My hands were so close. So close to what I was honestly most intimidated of. A complete and undeniable reminder of just how much more of a man he is than me. I let my hands grasp around the black leather before undoing his buckle. My dad remained stationary as I unfastened his belt, my heartbeat picking up with each movement I made. The belt separated, and I began to pull it through his jean loops. Just as the belt came through the final loop my dad reached for it. “I can take that.” He pulled it through the last loop and let it drop onto the floor next to him without paying attention to where he dropped it. His gaze was locked on me. I paused for a moment unsure of how to proceed. In all these months of wondering what it would be like to see my dad take his clothes off and flex, I never once considered that he would let me take his clothes off. “So I can just . . .” “Yeah it’s all you. If you want me in my boxers you have to take my jeans off.” I moment of lucidity seemed to come across me and I couldn’t help but wonder out loud. “Why are you letting me take them off?” He raised his eyebrows quickly in amusement. “You enjoy feeling small compared to me right?” He asked bluntly. “. . . yeah.” “Well by the same token I like showing off a bit. So making you take my pants off for me is kind of fun. I’m going to make you earn this.” He crossed his arms over. “Your making it difficult to concentrate.” I breathed. “I know.” He smirked flexing his crossed arms and pecs. The sides of his pecs rolled up and formed a crease at the side as his forearms, shoulders, and biceps showed their lines of striations. Back to the task at hand, I raised my arm up and first undid the button of his jeans. I pushed the meal through the slit, allowing his jeans to pop open at the top. The veins along his lower abs suddenly became more visible, disappearing below his beltline. I brought my hand down slightly and put my index finger and thumb against his silver zipper. I was really about to do this. I breathed in, subtly, as I began to unzip my dads pants. The zipper came down without much resistance, but I couldn’t help but notice a slight outward curve to his jeans as I unzipped them. Finally it reached the bottom and my dad’s black boxers were in view. Wanting to savor this moment I rose my fingers ack to his beltline but kept them there for a second. His quads and calves were outlined in his jeans, they were slim cut, and his boxers were showing. I couldn’t believe he was letting me do this, but I wasn’t about to question it. A beautiful, smart man was asking me to take his pants off. I began to pull down and watched as my dad’s boxers and legs slowly came into view as I peeled the jeans off. Once I got down to his quads it became much harder to pull them off. His legs were too large, it was like pulling leather off of someone. After a brief struggle, and a few tugs, the jeans were at my dads feet. To pull them off I had to get onto the floor on my knees and pull them out from under his feet as he raised them. I put them off to the side before looking up at my now nearly naked muscular father in complete awe of what I was seeing. I had seen my dad in his underwear before, but I had never see him look so beautiful or dominate. I had never seen any man look that beautiful or dominate for that matter. His quads and calves were both covered in veins and striations, only further accentuated by their incredible size. As I looked over his legs he tensed them causing his quads to flare out and his calves to raise up into hardened spheres. I looked down at his hairy feet and allowed my eyes to slowly travel up his shaven, vascular, thick legs. The striations in his quads were captivatingly defined. With his arms still crossed it was as though my dad was flexing his entire body. “Fuck. Your legs are insane.” It took everything in me not to rub my hands along his large legs. I was so taken aback that I had almost forgotten to take my eyes further. Realizing this, by instinct, I raised my eyes up and stopped at his boxers. Even in black, a concealing color, they looked filled. My father’s underwear left little to the imagination, and it was even more overwhelming than the rest of him. His boxers were lowcut, but on the top and bottom, and were not particularly spacious. I could actually see a vague outline of what was lying underneath. “Enjoying the view?” He shattered my focus and I quickly blinked back to my already impaired senses, embarrassed that I starred let alone even looked. “Oh . . . umm” I had watched him take his shirt off, flex, I rubbed his feet, and even took off his pants, but that still felt like a step too far. “Daddy a little more intimidating now?” He bent his right leg and extended his right arm out to flex his arms. He flexed his right arm, abs, and right thigh, arching his foot to flex his calf. He grunted as he reached the peak of his pose. Seeing my father nearly naked, flexing his muscles, in just his filled boxers . . . I couldn’t handle it anymore. “You umm . . .” He shifted his pose to flex his legs and upper body but putting his arms down along his sides and then moving them into a front double bicep. My words were lost and all I could do was watch. Next he lifted up the back of his underwear to revel his muscled ass before turning to the side and doing a squatted quad and bicep pose. The side and bottom of his leg became shredded, and his glutes seemed to flex in ways I didn’t even know they could. “How about one more?” He offered. My dad had a funny way of saying things so calmly, even though he had to have known how much this was getting to me. He really did enjoy showing off apparently. He turned his back to me and struck a back double bicep. Seeing his bare glutes was incredible. In all the times he had been in his underwear I had never actually seen his ass. But now in front of me, my dad’s ass was tight, large, cut, and flexed. I had never seen a man with such a powerful and firm back, mixed with his exposed ass, I couldn’t resist letting out. “Fuck.” I breathed as I rolled my lips together, the tension building in my body from seeing my father in such a dominant and masculine way. He slowly turned back around. “Now that I think about it this is probably the first time you’ve ever seen my ass. What do you think?” He raised an eyebrow with his question. “Your entire body is, perfect. I mean seriously you’re . . .” I bent my head slightly. My dad opened his mouth to release one of his cute laughs. “You know you can go ahead and say it right?” Obviously too nervous he went ahead. “Do you think I’m hot?” I took a deep breathe and finally after months of bottling up what I was feeling I allowed my tension to pour out. “Yeah. Honestly, yes.” “See you can be honest. I mean dude, I’m flexing my bare ass I front of you.” He let a second pass by. “No, totally, seeing you pose like this. You’re hot. And . . .” I decided to follow his train of thought and be honest. “If you are really okay with me being open and honest. Could I maybe . . . feel your muscles? You’ve been flexing and it is getting hard to just sit here and watch.” I said clearly and articulately. “Tell you what.” He responded quicker than I thought he would. “I think a full body message might be kind of nice actually.” I smiled at his comment but he quickly raised a finger, turning my joy into confusion and almost agitation. “But first . . .” He looked up putting his words together before speaking. “I don’t suppose you’d want to wrestle a little bit would you?” My face froze over immediately conveying my approval. “I can stay in my underwear.” He offered. The only thing that could have possibly been better than feeling my dad’s hard muscles, would be if he used them. This set off a very strange split feeling in me. The idea of being able to wrestle with my dad, feeling his weight and power on me, was beyond incredible. I wanted to feel that. Though there was still a small part of me that was almost . . . afraid. How bad would this hurt? I was certainly no match for my father. “Wrestling could be fun actually.” I smiled nervously as I stood up and looked at him, awaiting a cue. “Where are you feeling?” I allowed my excitement to bubble up slightly, easing my nerves in the process. In the end, my nervousness was stemming from excitement. I had been waiting so long to see my dad like this, and to be able to feel his body against mine, I couldn’t help but tremble with anticipation. “The living room might be a little cramped. I have an idea though.” He turned away from me, flicking his wrist indicating for me to follow him. He walked around the table, through he living room and kitchen area and then back towards his room. There were only two rooms down that hall: the study, and his room. I knew for a fact there wasn’t enough room in the study, or at least not anymore than there would have been in the living room. That left only one option. His room.
  12. pasidious

    Becoming an Alpha - Part 2

    Part 1 Let me know what you think! ________________________________________________ I loved it. I mean, I absolutely loved it. I'd never gotten a blowjob before, and the experience was... phenomenal. My cock had never been so hard and throbbing. It was so intense. I got back home and couldn't help myself. I dropped--threw--my gym bag onto my bed and went straight for the mirror. I had a full length mirror, which I was SO thankful for right now. I stood there, gazing at myself. I was sort of out of breath, since I definitely rushed back, so I was breathing rather heavy, and I watched my shoulders rise and fall with my deep breaths. My wider, bigger shoulders. My chest was pressing outward in my T-shirt, which I absolutely loved. I had an actual chest now, which was so much more amazing than I ever imagined. It wasn't a huge chest, but it was something. I'd been waiting for this moment. I pulled the sleeves back on both of my arms and flexed into a double-bicep pose, and FUCK. My arms rose into these little balls of muscle that were definitely just little mounds of soft flesh this morning. Any dude watching me right now would still be all like "he's too small to be showing off" but I didn't care. I was bigger than I was before. And it felt so... fucking... GOOD. I pumped my arms a bit, flexing and unflexing, watching the muscle rise and fall. It was such a hot sight. And it was ME. Not another guy. ME. And my dick was of course responding. I felt myself getting harder and harder, and it was to my OWN muscle. I lifted up the bottom of my shirt and... YES! I had some abs. It wasn't a tight six-pack or anything, but there were bumps there. A start of a six-pack. The sign of an athletic body, even though they weren't defined. My dick throbbed. I saw a wet spot forming on the front of my pants. Which was quicker to happen than normal, but I was super turned on. So, I pulled my pants off and let my big throbbing dick bounce up and slap my new abs. Some pre drooled onto the carpet. I also took notice of my bigger, thicker legs. I flexed them and marveled at the muscles that formed when before I had nothing. It was incredibly hot. I pulled my shirt over my head and threw it, now standing completely nude, and yes, I was definitely looking more like I hit the gym than I did before. I laid down on my bed, shoving my gym bag to the floor, and gripped my cock with my hands. I shuddered. Pleasure was shooting through every fiber of my being. I began jerking myself off, rubbing my hands up and down on my angry, throbbing member. It felt SO GODDAMN GOOD. I sighed. I kept jerking myself, getting faster as the pleasure increased. I felt really pent up even though I'd just blown a load not an hour before. I felt the clear pressure of impending ejaculation, and I didn't stop. I had no interest in edging myself. I wanted it to happen NOW. And BOOM. My cock exploded. Cum shot out of it into the air, and I swear, that first white volley came within an inch of the ceiling. I heard myself moan. Another shot, almost as high as the first. FUCK! I've never cum so hard before. These are powerful shots. BOOM. Another shot, tapering off, but still feeling intense as that first. Each shot was rising into the air then falling right back onto my chest. My new pecs. Splattering all over. As soon as it was just a dribble, I lay there panting, cum all over myself. It took a moment to realize that I didn't grow like last time. So it was confirmed. At least as far as I was concerned. I needed a blowjob to grow. I cleaned myself off and showered. I was starting to wonder if it'd be better to shower at the gym. Either way, I needed to come up with a plan to get another dude to blow me. It only took 19 years to get my first blowjob, so what's another 19 years? NO. I couldn't think like that. I could definitely make it happen. Maybe I needed to show off the goods a bit more. Get my dick more on display. Fuck. But then I had an idea. Who did I know that was gay? I had to know someone. It was a pretty big college, so there had to be plenty of gay dudes around who'd wanna suck my dick. But then an idea struck me. Grindr. I'd fiddled with it in the past, but I got bored of the weirdos on there who I was simply not interested in. But now I was at college and I'd be able to see all the guys nearby who were gay and potentially looking for some fun. I took out my phone and redownloaded the app, and I was eager to get someone to blow me so I was moving swiftly. I laid down on my bed and set up my profile. I didn't even bother with a picture. I just made my tagline say "horny" and started browsing through the people who were online. I actually did see several dudes on there that I'd seen in passing, one of whom was even in one of my classes. A lot of the squares were blank, which told me a lot of guys still liked to stay incognito. Which was fine, all I needed was someone to suck my dick. I didn't really have the desire to initiate conversation with any of these guys. I was still nervous about the whole thing. I mean, I definitely wanted some head, but it just still felt weird doing this stuff. But I would think back to how it felt getting sucked, and the feeling of my muscles swelling... my cock was getting hard again just thinking about it. I started to nod off laying there. I hadn't received any messages, and I was getting kind of bored. But just as soon as I was about to drift off to sleep, I heard an alert from my phone. I immediately opened the app and saw the message and the sender. He had a profile picture, too. All he said was "Hi." He was attractive, with short brown hair and a dark stud in each ear. No visible blemishes on his face, which was a plus. I sent back "Hello." "Wyd" "Nothin much just chillin in my room hbu" "Looking?" "Just for some head but yea" "pic?" I sent him a face picture. I had some actual photogenic selfies saved to my phone which I used rather than taking a brand new one right now. "Nice" and then he also said "Dick?" Fuck. I guess it never occurred to me to get a pic of that. "Hang on," I responded. I needed to get hard, and fast. I switched apps on my phone and went into my photo gallery. I, of course, had photos of muscle saved in there. "Guys next door" type of muscle. My favorite. Nonchalant flexes. I started with my favorite one, a dude about my age grinning cockily and flexing a pretty big bicep still wrapped in a shirt sleeve. His arm was big and his shirt was the perfect size to accentuate his biceps. The sleeve was tight around that bicep. I felt my cock rapidly swelling within my shorts. I switched to another photo. This one was another amazing photo to look at for a guy like me. Two dudes in this one, but one was skinny standing next to his friend flexing a double bicep, his sleeves pulled back, and grinning. The skinny friend was looking at him smiling, but I could tell he was envious as hell. I loved to imagine the skinny friend feeling his muscled friend's biceps after that pic was taken. My cock surged in my shorts, growing to full size, and I quickly moved to another photo. This one had another guy around my age standing in front of his bathroom mirror taking a selfie of himself just standing there, completely naked. He wasn't flexing, just totally relaxed, but his body was amazing. Full pecs, 6-pack abs, round bulbous muscular shoulders and thick defined arms, and his cock was standing straight up. And my own cock was now throbbing hard. I quickly whipped my cock out and positioned my phone to take a photo. I snapped one, then another, and then yet another. I got multiple angles. I saw some pre beginning to seep out of my tip, and I was sure to get a pic of that, too. I didn't want to waste time so I opened Grindr again and sent one of my new dick pics to my new potential friend. "Fuck thats a big dick" "Yeah?" "Fuck yeah man youd destroy me thankfully i just wanna suck you hehe" and then "Got any more?" I sent him another one. "Shit yeah your dick looks delicious" and then he sent another pic of himself with more than just his face. Another selfie but it was taken from farther away to show his torso, but still clothed. He was cute, for sure. "Come over" I sent, along with my dorm location. "Ooo your close" he said, then "BRT" It took a moment for that to sink in. FUCK. I had another dude coming to my room to suck my cock. He'd be here in mere minutes. FUCK. I looked in the mirror and fixed my hair and made sure I looked alright. I had a cool shirt on, I think, and I had a clean pair of gym shorts on. I took my bottle of cologne and spritzed a tiny amount on myself. I felt so nervous. I was pacing the room, butterflies in my stomach. I'd never done this before. It seemed so odd to me to be doing this. I never imagined myself in this position. I kept checking my phone, thinking he'd have sent a message I didn't hear canceling on me. I also kept double-checking my appearance in my mirror. I had a brief moment in which I took notice of my new frame after my first blowjob. My shoulders were noticeably wider, and I didn't realize until now how much higher the bottom of my T-shirt reached now. If I raised my arms, part of my stomach was exposed. I did really fill out this shirt more. But then suddenly I heard the knock at the door, which sent the butterflies in my stomach into overdrive. I had to take a deep breath. Not wanting to appear too eager, I slowly walked over to the door, sluggishly looking through the peephole and seeing it was indeed him, and unlocked it. I gripped the knob, and again, slowly turned it and opened the door. He stood there, looking me right in the eye, and smiled. "Hey," he said. I felt myself swallow, but my mouth was dry. FUCK I needed to get over this nervousness. I stepped aside and said "Come on in, man." He walked in and stood there as I shut the door. "What's up?" he said, as we awkwardly stood there. "Uhh, to be honest, I've never done this before, so I'm kind of nervous," I confessed. "It's alright man, I get it, I just wanna please you," he smiled, "Come on." He took my hand and guided me to my bed and pressed his hands into my chest til I sat on the end of my bed. He sat down beside me and put his hand on my leg and slowwwllllyyyy slid it up, then down my leg, occasionally allowing his fingers to knead my quads. I felt some stirring in my crotch area. "You're even sexier than I thought you'd be," he said. I felt my face go red, and I couldn't think of anything cool to say so I simply said "Thanks." He let his hand become more adventurous and it inched its way closer to my dick. I felt myself getting harder. I felt myself shudder, and the sexual tension was starting to become overwhelming. My nervousness was still there, and I had this overbearing uncertainty as to how to behave in this situation. I didn't know what my hands should be doing. Should I be touching him, too? Should I be doing the same thing to him? "Relax, man. Let me please you," he almost whispered, and then his hand grabbed my cock through my shorts. "Whoa..." he said rather loudly. His reaction was genuine, and I still had trouble believing my cock was something so amazing. He stroked me through my shorts and let his hand travel the entire length. "You're fucking big. Like, the pic you sent didn't do it justice." "Thanks," I said, sheepishly, while trying to refrain from squirming. His hand on my cock felt SO GOOD. "Stand up for me, sexy," he said. Then added "Please." I stood up, and he followed suit. He put his hands on my shoulders, then kissed me right on my lips. I was surprised a little, but it felt so right. I liked the kiss. At first it was pretty subdued, but then he really got into it, and I returned the kiss just as hard. We both let our tongues entwine, and my hands had moved to his hips, and very quickly, I pulled him into me, and I felt our hard cocks press together. It was a hot feeling. He moaned a little, his mouth still on mine. His hands began to move, his hands running down my arms, stopping at my upper arms. He gripped them, and squeezed. He broke the kiss, and said "Oooo someone's got some muscles," and I honestly didn't know how to respond. I wanted to kiss some more, but his attention was on my arms now. He was squeezing and running his hands over them, and then he said something that surprised me more than anything else had so far. "Flex for me, sexy." "What??" I said, with a little more surprise in my voice than I'd intended. "Please? Show me your biceps. They feel big. I wanna see." "Ummm, alright," I said, again, sheepishly. I brought my right arm up and flexed it the way I always see other guys do it. Held it parallel to the floor and straight out from my body, and bent my arm while tensing the biceps. My arm contracted into the nicely sized ball of muscle that had grown since my first blowjob. I saw his eyes watching it the entire time I did it, and they widened when my bicep appeared in its fully flexed glory. I hadn't moved the sleeve back, though, so some of it was still covered. "Hot," he whispered. I started to lower my arm and he said "No! Not yet. Please keep it flexed." So I flexed again, and he pulled the sleeve back himself, exposing my entire upper arm and part of my shoulder. "Fuck," he breathed, while reaching his hand up and running his fingers over the ball of muscle. He then wrapped his fingers around it and squeezed, and to my own surprise, there wasn't much give, if any at all. "It's so hard, too," he said. I was feeling pretty good about my muscular development right about then. I'd never had anyone compliment my muscles before, and here was this dude practically drooling over my biceps. So, I felt a bit more confident. I lowered my flexed arm, which made him open his mouth to protest, but I quickly pulled the sleeve back on my other arm and went into a double-bicep flex. "FUCK!" he exclaimed, and immediately had one of his hands on each of my arms. My cock was throbbing hard at this point, and I could feel pre leaking. "Fuck," he said again, and I watched as he took one of his hands and started jerking himself through his shorts. He then dropped to his knees, and tugged on my shorts. "Please?" he asked, his eyes looking up at me like a puppy. "Fuck yeah," I heard myself say. "Mmmm" he voiced his approval, and slowly pulled my shorts down, allowing my cock to finally break free from its confinement. As soon as the elastic band of my shorts moved far enough, my cock bounced out, standing straight up, and some pre flung out and hit him on his chin. "Wow, you're already leaking," he said, then used his finger to wipe his chin and licked it. "Sweet," he said. And then he didn't waste any time. He immediately popped the head of my cock into his mouth and used his tongue to run around my tip. My whole body was filled with electric pleasure, and the tingling was running through every fiber of my body. "Ohhh god..." I moaned, and I felt myself getting hornier. My cock literally felt like it was growing harder with each passing second, and the feeling of his tongue flitting around the head of my cock was astronomical. It left me bereft. My moaning signaled him to turn up his sucking a few notches. He slowly took more of me into his mouth, sliding his lips down my shaft centimeter by centimeter. His tongue expanded its domain, running all over, and he had his hands gripping the backs of my legs, squeezing and massaging them. To be completely honest, that was making it feel so much better. "Unnghhfuck," I moaned, feeling the cum welling up within my balls, the pressure building. My whole body was tingling in the same way it was last time, and I knew I was going to grow again. I needed to cum. I flexed my dick, feeling it throb hard, and my pleasurer could surely feel my dick pulsing. He sucked harder and harder, even emitting some slurping noises. "Ohhh god, fuck!" I exclaimed. The pressure was reaching its peak, and I could tell I would cum any second. "UNNGHH" I grunted, as the pressure breached its containment threshold. "I'm cumming!" I yelled, and I felt the fine sensation of cum shooting into my shaft, and then out of my tip. It was strong and forceful, and my dick throbbed hard with each shot, swelling just a tiny bit each time. He took every shot in his mouth, spilling none, and gulped loudly as he swallowed all of it. To be honest, though, I wasn't all too concerned with my orgasm. Yeah, it felt amazing, but I was almost shaking with excitement for the aftermath. After my fourth shot, I figured I was done and gently pushed him off my dick. I wanted to see myself grow. He looked surprised as hell when I pushed him away, but I wasn't concerned right now, and I had a feeling he wouldn't be either in a moment. "Watch what you just did to me," I said, before he could protest what I did. I felt it welling up within me. I walked over to the mirror, a new girth and weight in my crotch as my dick swung between my legs oozing cum onto the floor. He looked confused as hell when I saw his face in the mirror. I smirked, and focused my attention my body. I stood there, relaxed, watching my entire body. It was still a shock to see my newly toned body from the growth that already occurred. My chest was heaving and my heart was pounding, and I couldn't tell if that was an effect of my excitement or if it was the reaction taking place within my body. "Ohhhh fuuuuuck," I moaned, and I felt like my entire body was experiencing an orgasm as I watched all of my muscles swell bigger. My pecs visibly grew and pushed out from my chest, my slight cleavage becoming more of a valley. My abs clenched and tightened, and I watched as six bricks etched deeper into my stomach. My legs thickened, and it felt incredible to feel my thighs touch each other. I flexed them and watched my quads burst into definition, heads of muscle visible when before, I'd have assumed I had no muscle at all in my legs. "Holy shit," I heard from behind me. I saw his face in the mirror and it was of pure astonishment. He almost looked fearful. "Yeah--ungghhh--get a good look, I'm still--grnnn--growinggggg," I managed to get out before I felt my arms involuntarily flex and pulse, and I watched as they grew slightly bigger and thicker with each heartbeat. Veins were coursing over my arms, and I clenched my fists and watched my forearms thicken and swell into the arms you'd see on a real gym-rat. The kind you'd see on a guy and you'd just KNOW he was strong. "Ohhhfuck yeah, fuuuck yeahhhhh..." The words came out of my mouth but I wasn't even thinking them. The sensation in my arms was overwhelming my senses, and my favorite muscles were growing. Biceps are the mark of dominance and power, and mine were growing. I watched my biceps throbbing bigger with each pump of my heart, thickening and growing. And then I saw my arms angling more outward from my body, and I realized my lats had been swelling a little bigger. It was astonishing even for me to see how my arms didn't just hang at my sides, they were angled out now. FUCK. And my shoulders swelled up some, too, widening with my lats, and I now had obvious traps, eliminating that "pencil-neck" appearance I once had. "SHIT! This is so hot!" I heard my cocksucker exclaim, and I noticed he was standing now, watching me in the mirror intently. His dick was standing straight up. I turned around and looked him right in the eye. "You like this?" I asked, standing there with my chest heaving from my heavy breaths. I gestured at my own body, completely nude. He nodded rapidly, and I saw his eyes darting from body part to body part. His dick was oozing precum. "How about this?" I asked, and made my pecs jump and bounce. FUCK! I could never do that before. Again, he nodded rapidly. I flexed my legs, next, and they once again exploded into definition, and my quads were impressively bulging. I couldn't wait to try on some old shorts to see how they fit me, now. "You like muscle? Well, watch THIS," I said, then flexed my arms into a double-bicep pose, and I felt this immense power as I did it. I felt fucking strong as hell. "Fuck yeah!" And then I watched him shut his eyes, his body shuddered, and his little dick exploded cum all over the floor. He didn't shoot very much, but he definitely came. "Ohhhhgodnngggh" he moaned. I dropped my arms and chuckled. "Okay, well, I hope you enjoyed the show, dude, but I got other things to do, so here are your clothes--" I handed him his clothes, "--and I will see you around!" and I guided him out of my room and shut the door. I went back over to my mirror and couldn't believe what I saw. I was so much bigger than before. I was almost huge. My arms were hot. So hot. I loved biceps, and I really wanted to see if I could rip through some sleeves. "Fuck yeah," I said to myself, as I imagined the ways I was going to enjoy my new body.
  13. Guest

    Jeff: Ab workout

    Hi guys This weekend I finally finished a new short story, this time focused on abs. Hope you like it ----------------------- - Please, sign here - the delivery man handed the receipt over to Jeff, offering a pencil as well. Jeff took the paper and pencil, rolled up his right arm sleeves, up to the midpoint of his freakishly developed forearm, exposing dozens and dozens of bulging cords of muscle under the paper thin skin. As he did so, the delivery man opened his eyes wide, really scared of what he was seeing. Jeff placed the paper on the entrance table and started signing under his name. Each stroke of the pencil made his forearm cords move unnaturally, each one of them trying to make a space amongst the rest of the bunches of fibers in Jeff's forearm. Crawling veins on top of those muscles were raising and falling with each snake-like forearm cord moving under them, and pressing them against the tight skin. The signing show was as unnatural as any other routinary task Jeff did during his day, his mind trying to make natural what his muscles couldn't do but in an obscene unnatural and surrealistic way. In the final signature stroke, the veins all over his fingers and back bulged thick all over the hand tendons and bulging bones, while the paper skin thin was trying to adapt to the movements under it, hardly stretching over the freaky hose thick veins under it. - Is that all? - Jeff asked while he returned the signed receipt and pencil back to the still amazed and wordless delivery man. - Y... Yes, sir - he recovered as he could, took the paper and went away - Thank you. - You're welcome Jeff closed the door and looked at the heavy box. Finally, after some weeks pushing the steel factory, he had received his order. He opened it, uncovered the contents and saw all three industrial springs, each one of them composed by a two-inches thick iron spiral with the same specifications he ordered: the endings were a wide round place, another two-inches thick steel plate with a 2 inches wide hole with a thread in the middle, to attach it where needed. Each one of the springs was 2 feet long and could easily weight 100lbs. Having a look at the specifications he checked the extension resistance limits: 1 inch extension --> 100 lbs 5 inches extension --> 500 lbs 1 feet extension --> 1 ton 2 feet extension --> 3 tons The breaking point is 2 feet of extension. Please use carefully "Ok, it would be enough for the moment", Jeff thought as he was carrying effortlessly all three springs to the basement, where he had installed the self-made ab crunch machine. The machine had the same basic shape and mechanism of a conventional one but in a much larger size. The steel thin cords that propagated the movement in a gym version was substituted by a 3 inches thick cable to support the resistance it was meant for. Instead of plates to adjust the resistance of the machine, there was a huge void inside a steel frame. A thick steel plate was attached to 5 individual cords that joined into the main cable that transported the movement. The plate was crossed by two thick column-like bars that served as a guide to the movement of the plate, soldered to the base of the whole machine. Both in the base and in the steel plate there were 3 thick holes, each one of them 2 inches wide and with a thread in the inside, obviously meant to be joined to the springs Jeff has just received. As a whole, the machine was an absurd ab-breaker workout machine, meant for an animal like Jeff. He took the springs, the bolts, and the pneumatic screwdriver and attached each one of the three springs to the base of the machine. The, he lowered the upper plate to the height of the springs and again, attached them to the plate with another three bolts and the screwdriver. Once done, he did a simple test with the hand, trying to lower the plate, just to check if it was firmly attached. He tried to raise the plate and test the resistance of the springs. The first attempt was successful, all pieces were firmly attached; in the second attempt, he pulled harder, making his biceps pop up obscenely against the fabric of his t-shirt. He smiled, completely satisfied with having finally finished his ab workout machine, a perfect piece of machinery to destroy his abs in each rep. The bench of the machine was not a usual one either. The most extended position of it was not at 45 or 30-degree angle over the horizontal. He took the back of the bench and started lowering it to a 30-degree position, then to 15 degrees, then horizontal, and then he lowered it even more, forming an obtuse angle of -90 degrees over the horizontal. He removed his t-shirt and looked at himself in the mirror right in front of the ab machine. "Oh fuck, I cannot believe this", he thought as he checked his freaky obscene shredded torso. His 10 pack abs looked like 10 thick melons attached to his stomach, perfectly cut one against each other and against the obliques. The upper pair of abs were partially in shades due to the shadow of his own pecs over them. Those pecs were bulging about 1 feet away from his sternum and crossed by a huge deep striation that broke each pec into two wide halves, apart from the deep cleavage, 1 feet deep that fell into his bones. He did a slight twist of his waist to have a better view of the obliques and serratus, and the movement made the 10 cobblestones shred vertically, from the insertion into the uppermost flat muscle tissue to the lowermost, million of fibers crossing his midsection in an obscene display of lean conditioning and dry status. The cut all along the obliques was not a clean one, but a saw-like ridge of crisscrossed fibers inserting into each other, but forming a deep deep deep zig-zag valley of muscle cuts. He turned himself completely to have a whole side view of his torso. Right after turning his head and watching himself in the mirror, he developed a huge hardon, brutally visible inside the fabric of his pants. His 13-inches cock pushed the fabric away, making the rim get separated from his paper-thin abdominal skin. He could see his pubic hair appearing, and threw a huge spurt of pre against the pants, wetting it completely. The view was freaky obscene: a huge and thick slab of muscle hanging heavily in his chest, the mammoth pec bulging horizontally, impossibly attached to the collarbone, hanging 2 inches low into the abdominal section. Hi his abdominal side view was composed of 5 incredible and perfectly round bulges of muscle, popping out hard from his stomach wall. Each one of them bulged almost 4 inches away, in a completely regular way, except the lower pair of abs that were much longer, getting into his pubic section as if it were a giant snake getting into his pants. He went up to the machine, sat on the bench and fit his feet and ankles into the hook, so they could be tightly fastened to the base of the machine. He leaned onto the back of the bench, but since it was in a -90 degrees position, he had to force his body to reach it, stretching his upper torso until he could fit his arms into the grips at the sides of the bench, firmly inserted so he could use them to propagate his strength and pull up the weights. He had arranged the machine and the grips in such a way he could raise his head enough to check his own abs during the workout, but in this impossible position, it was hard to see his stomach. Anyway, he could fit how hard the abs were stretching under his skin; in order to get that position, he had to force a semi-vacuum pose; his stretched abs were pushing his stomach and guts against his back. He was ready to test his grotesque invention, this ab breaker creation that could make his abs collapse, or take them to a never witnessed level of obscene development. He took a deep breath and tested the resistance in a very light way, just pulling himself up very slightly, just one inch only to realize that he had ordered a real ab breaker. That simple and short movement made his obliques react, flexing hard, and pulling both from his hips, where they were attached to at the lowermost side, and his ribcage at the uppermost one. He relaxed the flex, raised his head until he could see his stomach and repeated the operation, but 2 inches this time. He crunched and saw the obliques grow as if they had been inflated with air in just one second. Both snakes grew thick and shredded, and he could feel a warm burn inside of his muscles, they were warming up to get ready for the destruction he was about to inflict on them. Some small and thin veins started to appear on top of the obliques. He was still in a negative 87-degree position; there were still so much to travel. He lifted himself another inch, grunting slightly and focusing the effort on the obliques. This time it burned much more than before, the industrial springs were doing their job. The obliques snakes started peaking at the midsection, bulging obscenely due to the life of brutal workout that Jeff had lived. He went on raising his body, each inch destroying his obliques more and more. He checked himself again, the veins had doubled their size, pumping blood as fast as his heart could, feeding his muscles to go on with the intense and destructive workout. The obliques had grown so much that the cuts with his serratus were one inch deep, the obscene zig-zag of fibers were pushing his skin tighter and tighter. At this point, he decided to destroy his right oblique more. He had included in his machine a rotating fitting between the seat and the back of the bench, so he could twist his waist during the workout when he decided. He twisted slightly to the left, concentrating the effort on the right side of his body. The left oblique could relax for a while, but his right one was about to explode since he lifted himself 5 additional inches while twisting his waist. He was at a -60 degrees position, he checked his right oblique and the sight made him threw a thick spurt of pre against his pants. The oblique was brutally obscene: the muscle looked as if it were a competitive bodybuilder's forearm. The fibers had re-grouped forming thick bunches, that gave them the appearance of strings of muscle, as if the muscle had cuts on them. The veins on top of the oblique were now as thick as a forearm vein, half an inch thick, long, bulging obscenely over the muscle. The cuts against the serratus were even deeper, where any cock could fit in. He did the same again, but with his left oblique, twisting his waist to the right while raising his body 5 inches more. His right oblique relaxed but his left one exploded into a million cords and fibers bulging one against the others, the snake muscle burst out of his stomach wall and bulged obscenely on top of his midsection, a different dozen of huge thick veins surrounding and feeding the muscle, pressing his skin as the right muscle did before, but forming different shapes under the skin. At this moment he was at a -45 degrees and rotated his waist again until reaching a natural position, both obliques suffering the same, relaxing somehow. Jeff looked again at his stomach; from his perspective, and due to the -45 degrees position, which relaxed the vacuum pose, his cobblestones started to be visible again behind his mammoth pecs; he could see all 10 muscles, absurdly cut against the brutally grown obliques, and grotesquely ripped, though there were not so many veins as in the obliques. He looked at the springs in the machine and saw the extension that he had inflicted on them. They were extended at least 5 inches which meant that he was pulling 500 lbs with the strength of his obliques. He took a deep deep breath and determined himself to reach the horizontal in the next crunch. He started pulling with a loud grunt *ARGGGGGHHHHHHH* trying not to collapse with the effort. The spring started extending more and more, as his body slowly raised. His lower abs were doing all the effort, what made them explode in an almost audible POP, bulging outside of the stomach wall and making themselves as thick as his obscene obliques. Along with the explosion of his lower abs, his cock suffered a huge spasm that made him out of the pants, pointing up in a rock hard straight way, his mushroom cock head oozing precum half due to the workout effort, half because his own view was insanely hot. He couldn't understand how he could develop his body in such an inhuman way. He was grateful to his unnatural genetics for his evolution. He went on raising his body, grunting louder and louder, his abs popping out pair by pair as he made his fibers join the other in the inhuman effort that he was doing: 2... 4... 6... 8... along with the lower set that was already bursting out of his stomach. "FUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKK", he thought as he reached the horizontal and could see in a full view his obscene, grotesque, alien, inhuman 10 pack of muscle abs popping in his stomach, and surrounded by two grotesquely thick snakes of muscles that other people call obliques. The whole view was like a nightmare, he couldn't really distinguish that was a man's stomach, bulges were so unnaturally thick that it looked like thick oranges glued to his stomach. At this point, he looked at the springs and measured the extension: at least 1 feet. "No fucking way, one ton on my abs". He realized how much weight he was using to his workout and that made him threw another spurt of cum, this time flying and falling directly on top of his 2nd set of abs, the 2nd closer to the pecs. He lowered himself to -15 degrees and crunched again to the horizontal, repping non stop from -15 to 0 and back. His mind started blurring as if he were high; he entered "the zone" where all he could think of was MUSCLE, his own muscle, only determined to go on repping and repping, until his stomach exploded into a massive and obscene set of cobblestones. He rolled his eyes, enjoying the burn in the abs, focusing his mind on the intense and hot feeling in his midsection. Now he looked again to his stomach and he gasped at the sight: The previously insane looking muscles now looked sick; each muscle had doubled its size, the size of a melon, popping disgustingly off the stomach, some of them slightly bigger than the others, moving separately to fit in the thin waist, rubbing one against the other in each rep, radiating heat, red as hot iron; each cobblestone covered by dozens of thick veins, a brutally vascular view of abs, shredded from one side to the other, drops of sweat running through the cuts and flowing to the sides, until they reached the oblique and made their way inside the cut with the serratus, reaching the intercostal muscles. Now he reached the horizontal again and stopped abruptly; his abs stopped his workout but still had to stay crunched to hold the position. The cuts of them were so perfect, so deep and shiny; he was dying to release his hands and start admiring their own muscles; but he was caught in the grips, he couldn't let them or then the back of the bench would fall again. But he needed to touch those disgusting muscles so much... He got angry at this frustrating feeling and that led him to crunch a bit harder, raising himself some inches more and making each ab muscle to peak as if they were biceps, bulging high, some shreds so deep that the ab looked as if it were about to split up. The sole idea of the abs looking like biceps made him so high so hard, that he crunched harder and harder, cobblestones bulging 4 inches high, cuts so deep that each cobblestone threw large shadows over the next one. Jeff's cock was so hard and high he could have broken a wall. The mushroom was completely purple, oozing pre non stop, some spurts landing in the brutally shredded abs, some large drops of them just flowing down the shaft, wetting his pubic hair. Fuck he needed a good blowjob right now, or a beasty jerk session, but he could move his hands off the grips, he was forced to workout without any relief. But then... SLAM!!!!! - Honey, I'm home!!! - Martin shouted from the front door. "Fuck yes!!!" Martin had moved some months ago, but Jeff still didn't remember all his work timetables. But the important thing right now is that he was home, at the perfect timing, and let's hope that with the perfect attitude. - In the basement!! Come quick!!!! Martin instantly understood what Jeff was doing, and what he wanted him to do. He was completely obsessed with his boyfriend's body, he was encouraging him to grow more, to work out harder and harder, he was his best sponsor, the mental one. That's all Jeff needed: motivation. But not the normal motivation that other guys would have given, but the right motivation to become the freak Jeff wanted to be; and, more incredible, to become the freak Martin wanted Jeff to become. Martin got rock hard and headed quickly to the basement, excited but scared, nervous, not sure how this would end. He knew it would end up in the best way possible, but he still got scared every time he saw his boyfriend do one of his brutal workouts. What would it be this time? Biceps? Legs? Oh fuck, what does it matter? He wanted every single muscle on him, every single freaky and obscene abomination that those muscles were. Jeff could hear Martin's steps coming down the stairs. He forced himself to crunch harder and harder, to force the springs more inches, to be in the freakiest possible condition for Martin. All he could think of was his boyfriend's tongue, fingers and cock running all over his veins, his paper-thin skin, playing with his obscene body. He crunched harder and let a loud roar in the crunch. *GRRRRRRRRRRR FFFFFFFFFUCKKKKKKK* Martin heard the roar when he was about to open the door. His heart stopped, the same way he stopped at the door before opening it. His pants were about to explode, he had developed a huge hardon since Jeff called him first, and now his cock was about to burst. But that roar, that beast shout made him almost cum. He had no idea what he was about to find but he wanted to discover. He opened the door... Martin found Martin in the newly created ab crunch machine, at a 30 degrees angle, but he seemed to have some balls on top of his torso. He walked more towards him, Jeff's roaring getting louder and louder. Now Martin noticed Jeff's cock was completely erect, stiff and pouring precum down his shaft, and his ass started to get open. But when he was just 3 meters away, he noticed... that... those balls... - No no no - He stuttered - No way... He realized what those balls were. Muscles... Abs... "It's not possible" He couldn't believe it, those... things were muscles on top of his boyfriend's stomach. His knees started to get weak, his head started to ache, his blood pressure raised as his heart was pounding hard through his veins. He could see Jeff's stomach completely covered with 10 obscene slabs of muscle, shredded as fuck, millions of fibers disgustingly visible, surrounded by dozens of veins feeding the muscles, wrapping the muscles as if they were fingers worshipping that beast body. - Fuck Martin, come and see this... Look at these fucking abs!!! Martin looked into Jeff's eyes, completely injected with rage, lusting over his own muscles, his eyes going from Martin's eyes to his own abs, drooling over them, his eyes showing how much into himself he was. Marting got closer, watching his boyfriend rep more and more, each time his grotesque bicep-like ab muscles growing more, shredding more, getting veinier, more grotesque, disgusting. He stopped in front of the monster cock, that seemed to grow with each rep, constantly oozing precum; Martin was completely mesmerized with the scene, he couldn't even hear Jeff roaring, he could only focus on the pervert flexing of his boyfriend's abs. He grabbed the rim of Jeff's pants and slowly lowered them, exposing those baseball nuts, exposing the monstrous thighs, kind of hairy, completely cut and covered in veins, from the huge effort of having his legs attached to the machine while he was working out. When the pants reached the ankles he kneeled down, his face at the height of Jeff's balls, completely covered in precum, stuck his tongue out and placed it on the base of the shaft. Jeff felt the tongue on his shaft and threw a new spurt of pre, landing on his lower abs. Martin ran his tongue slowly, moaning, getting all the precum on it, and slowly closed his lips around the shaft, kissing it, swallowing his bodybuilder's precum, savoring it, his own cock spurting precum like a hose, completely high on the feeling of satisfying his muscle god. He reached the top of the shaft, licked the rims of the mushroom with the tip of his tongue and slowly suck on his boyfriend's cock head. At that moment, Jeff roared again, completely hot, throwing a new spurt of cum right into Martin's throat. Martin opened his eyes and saw the obscene landscape of muscle in front of him; mountains of muscles on Jeff's abs, grotesque valleys between the muscles, wet with precum and sweat, disgustingly covered in thick veins; and now he noticed for the first time the obliques, those two snakes of muscle surrounding the monster abs and inserting directly into the sides of the crotch. Insertions so obscenely visible that he seemed skinless, firmly attached to the tendons, running up, thickening into bulging bunches of fibers, in grotesque shapes, covered with thick veins until each oblique had the appearance of brutal alien forearms, bulging here and there, fibers twitching under the skin, some of them breaking at Martin's sight, regenerating and growing. The intense sucking of Martin made Jeff crunch his abs even more. The springs were absurdly extended, one foot and a half, almost 2 tons destroying that god's abs, but being determined to finish his brutal workout. He raised one more foot at once, the springs extended beyond his limit, more that three tons. The bicep-like abs peaked more, grew thicker; Marting stuck his eyes into his boyfriend's lower abs, removed his mouth from Jeff's cock and placed his fingers on top of that disgusting pair of abs. The feeling was hot as fuck, like hell, hot iron; he moved the skin all over those muscles, feeling how they rolled over the veins; he could feel the steel-like fibers under his fingers. - Fuck honey, look at this freaky skin!!! Jeff raised his head again and looked at his boyfriend playing with his skin, that simple movement making him horny as fuck, like a raging stallion. He started repping like a crazy beast, moving 3 tons with each rep, with the only help of those 10 abs. Martin looked at him begging for more. - Please honey, give me more. I want you to become the freak you deserve to be!!! Jeff hit a brutal crunch - GROARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR - that made his 2 lower abs break into an additional set of abs. POP, POP, both abs appeared in a sudden at Martin's sight, disgustingly shredded, bulging as thick as the other abs, covered in veins. Martin threw his mouth onto those two new freaky muscles and ran his tongue in the cut between the new abs, lustingly feeling the cut, the fibers on his tongue, the sweat, the veins bulging under the skin. Jeff was raging, he was repping more and more, and then concentrated his mind into separating each pair of abs. They started to separate from each other, making the cut transform into a valley, wider and wider, until Martin's tongue was licking the flat tissue underneath the abs. - Come on you fucker, eat this!!! He made his abs get closer again, catching Martin's tongue between the abs. Martin let a loud moan out of his throat, running the tongue as he could against the popping peaking abs. He finally got rid of the ab grip and instanty stuck his mouth on top of the closest peak, biting it salivating it, mouth washing it like a dog, completely into the lust of his boyfriend's abs. He stood up, climbed Jeff's thighs and in a matter of seconds, removed his pants and let himself on top of that monster cock, engorging it with his ass as if it were butter. - Fuck me god, fuck me you freak monster!! Jeff had his eyes injected in blood and he couldn't hold it more. He let the arms' grips go away, and the springs made the plates and the bench go to its resting position in a sudden, with a terrible sound, but Jeff kept the same position as if he were still flexing with the machine. He got Martin's cock with his hand and stuck it into his own abs. With a freaky and fast movement, he started flexing his lower fibers, making Martin's cock get deeper and deeper into his abs. Martin couldn't believe it, his cock was fucking his boyfriend's stomach surrounded by obscene and grotesque fibers, veins pumping blood against his own cock, while his ass was being pounded by that monster dick. Jeff raised his arms and hit the freakiest bicep flex that Martin had ever seen, even after months of daily worship, he had never seen peaks like those. The two halves of each bicep were bulging obscenely, the deep separation begging for Martin's hand to get inside them, and so he did. Martin placed his hand on the outer half of each bicep, his fingers inserting in the deep split, feeling each vein, each striation, in such a lust and obscene way he just wanted to spit on him. - That's what you want huh? You want to have your fucking slave drooling for your muscle huh? - Martin bragged at him. - Fuck yes!!!! I am your fucking muscle god, and I need you to worship me FOREVER, you hear it? - Aw yeah you bastard, come on give me muscle!! Give me your disgusting peaks you disgusting freak!!! Jeff crunched his peaks more, Martin's hands obscenely rubbing them. His hips were thrusting against Jeff's abs more and more, while he was crunching his abs in such a way he was literally jerking his boyfriend's cock, satisfied with this freaky worship sex session. Martin couldn't resist it any more an started cumming like a fucking hose. - Aw take thisss!!!!!!! Jeff thrusted his hips pushing his cock into his slave's cock more and more, pushing him while crunching his arms more and more, and started cumming inside of his boyfriend, filling him with bodybuilder's cum, each one of the spurts making him feel like an alien monster freak. Martin moaned as he emptied his balls into those grotesque abs, his hands rubbing them, feeling the disgusting fibers, moving the skin on top of that brutal flesh, and making him cum even more. Slowly both of them finished cumming, exhausted, unable to comprehend what they had lived; probably the freakiest sex both of them had had, Jeff still amazed at the size of his new abs, and Martin completely in love with his freaky god. - Fuck honey, thank god you're home early - he winked at Martin and gave him a deep and loving kiss.
  14. pasidious

    Jolias Finally Lets Go - Part 5

    To avoid potential confusion, and in case it isn't obvious, the first part of this chapter is from Jolias's point of view. It's a new thing for me, to write from a separate character's perspective. Hopefully it isn't terrible. Thanks again to @MadMutter for allowing me to use his OC Jolias. Part 4 He's so cute. The light hair he keeps in an undercut style, his light brown eyes which might even seem more golden than brown, the fact he's taller than me... He hits all the right buttons for me. And, the fact he's constantly nervous is just even cuter. Not alone, but the fact that I seem to be the cause of it is so enthralling. I love having that affect on him. I picked up the 20s and started doing alternating curls with them. I really did want Mike to join me for a workout, which I really thought would be fun, but it's whatever. I can drag him here when we're both free. Just gotta get some better synergy going with our schedules. I wonder if he ever does workout, though. This colder weather thing makes it so difficult to determine what a dude looks like under his clothes. I mean, sure, it's far easier to tell the overweight guys from the skinnier guys, but the thinner dudes are always a mystery. Are they fit? Just skinny? No way to know until some layers come off. And I wanna know what Mike looks like. The gym would have been the perfect way to get a reading on his body. But, if I'm being honest, it didn't matter. I was already enraptured by him. I really just wanted to see his reaction to my body. I scoffed at myself for being so... shallow. But, there was more to it than just physical attractiveness, as much as I tried to hide that fact. I looked in the mirror across from where I was standing as I curled the weights. I loved watching my hard biceps balling up with each contraction, my vascularity showing through with a nice protruding vein across each peak. Fuck yeah, I thought to myself, knowing I was building my muscles up naturally. I definitely craved size, that's for sure. I wanted the power. That feeling. It's so intoxicating to be so strong. But I wanted it naturally, and I wanted it to be permanent. Not just some sexually charged reaction to being immensely turned on. I sighed, knowing my reality was a shitty one. I guess I was hoping Mike would've joined me in here, and he would've reacted to seeing my muscles the way he's been reacting so far. I wanted to watch him pitch a tent as he saw me flexing and lifting. I wanted to know if muscles turned him on. I need a reading on him. I need to know if we could ever work as a romantically involved couple, or if we're forever doomed to just be friends. And, sadly, probably less than even that, because I know damn well he's into me. And if I can't reciprocate, he'll probably eventually get alienated to the point of total avoidance. Not a good basis for a lasting friendship. What if muscles aren't his thing? What if he's like... totally disgusted by it? I felt myself getting irrationally disappointed by a total hypothetical. Even if he's not into muscle, maybe we could still work? I shook my head at the conversation I was having with myself in my own mind. The idea we would still work is laughable. He'd see me grow and probably run and never look back. Literally no one can do what I can do. There's a reason it's a secret from everybody. Well, almost everybody. The last and only person who ever saw me grow did exactly what I'm afraid Mike would do. He ran. Scared out of his mind. He even told the authorities that I was some kind of monster, and I had to answer a bunch of questions from the police. It was... embarrassing, to say the least. The word "alien" even came up a couple of times. Thankfully I only grow when I'm extremely aroused, and return to normal once I "calm" down. So, investigations were brief and short-lived as they weren't able to investigate or validate science-fiction. Science-fiction that was, admittedly, truth, but again, only one person having knowledge of it allows it to go on as simply science-fiction. I hated harboring ill feelings towards a guy I once wanted to date, but really, it's hard not to be upset that he tried to ruin my life. I was so attracted to him. And I thought he was to me. But I couldn't help but smile at the fact he was seen as a lunatic for bringing such ridiculous accusations against me. The only way I'd be concerned at this point is if Fox Mulder and Dana Scully showed up at my door. I smirked at that idea, inwardly laughing but lamenting the fact that one of the greatest TV shows of all-time is no longer on television. God, what would I really do if Fox Mulder decided to investigate the truth behind whether or not I was some sort of monster? Would even he be able to get to the bottom of it? Building my own body up through normal means was my way of trying to measure my compatibility with a potential boyfriend. It's taken a year, but I'm finally looking pretty buff, in my own opinion. Now all I gotta do is find a way to... show it off, I guess... and watch how Mike reacts. Then, we can move on from there. I finished my workout, which was a light one today. I went back to the locker room and, before bothering to cover my body again with the necessary layers to protect against the cooler fall air, I decided to look into the mirror. The black wife-beater I usually wore for working out was form-fitting. Sexy. I liked it. It showed my tight abs through the thin fabric, and I could see the small but nevertheless present valley between my taut pecs. And of course, my arms were on full display. My shoulders have broadened a bit since I started working out, and my arms are getting thick with muscle. I'm not huge, by any standard. But I was taking on the appearance of a gym-rat. And I need so badly to finally let Mike get a glimpse of what's hiding under my clothes. I need his reaction, and I need it to be positive. Because I can't stop imagining shoving my dick into his ass and hearing him moan in pleasure. I started putting on my clothes, changing out of my shorts and putting on my pants, and donning the hoodie I usually wear before it starts getting truly cold outside. BZZZ My phone went off. It was nestled next to a bunch of spare change I had in my gym bag for whatever reason, amplifying the noise of its vibration. I always put it on vibrate when I'm in the gym just in case someone decides to blow it up with phone calls. After I shoved my arm into the second sleeve of my hoodie, I reached down for my phone before zipping the bag shut. My heart skipped a beat in my chest and I smiled as I read the sender's name of the text. It was Mike. Class done wanna get lunch? I felt myself sigh, almost like I was relieved. Like I was scared he wouldn't text me. I smiled, thinking of how he seems to be thinking the same way I am. He's a nervous dude, too; he only hides it far less as well as I can. Fuck yes where, I sent back. Immediately the bubbles popped up. The den since its open and closer than dennys lol he responded. Good idea im so hungry meet ya there And I didn't hesitate to pick up my shit and walk out of there. *** Once again I sat in a class I really ought to have been paying attention to thinking only of Jolias. His face was all I could see in my head when I sat in that hard, unrelenting classroom chair. I glanced down at my notes and it was once again riddled with nothing but Jolias's name. Over and over again. I was totally enraptured by him. He was so fucking hot! How could anyone not think of him constantly? How was he not a famous model making millions of dollars a month just posing for pictures? Wait, scratch that idea. If he were doing that, I'd have no shot of being with him. I'd have no shot of even being friends with him, much less lovers. He can do that after we get married, and then we can be rich. I laughed inwardly at myself, thinking of the future in those terms. Like he'd ever want to marry me. I'm boring. Dull. He surely would rather marry a guy who's much more attractive. I looked up at the professor who was droning on and on, and I saw a ton of crap written on the chalkboard that I probably should have been paying attention to. I subconsciously shook my head, cursing at myself for allowing my mind to wander so freely. I am so going to regret not paying attention. But in a mere second, I was back to thinking about Jolias and only Jolias. He was going to the gym. Which meant he was probably hiding some sexy muscles under those clothes. I'd love to see them! My cock was growing again within the confines of my pants, and I didn't even care. I liked imagining Jolias with a tight, sexy, muscular body. I imagined actually having joined him in the gym, and I imagined him doing the bench press, pushing up weight I could never dream of lifting, watching from his side as his pecs bunched up into hard mounds every time he pushed the heavy weight up. Maybe one day we can have a private workout, except he'd work out his sexy muscles, and then we'd have a separate workout of our own right after. Like, maybe he'd finish pressing a ton of weight, and then I'd walk over, straddle him as he lay on the bench, and sit down right on his crotch. I'd bend down, kissing him hard on the lips, our tongues wrestling with each other, my hands prodding his hot pumped up chest. I'd lift my ass up just enough to get my pants down, as he lowers his own in a frenzy of sexual tension, and then I'd lower myself back down as his dick slowly enters my hot hole. He'd flex his big sexy biceps as I slowly and lightly bounce on his dick, our moans echoing through the empty weight room. FUCK. I came back to reality in time to hear the screech of metal chair legs scraping across cheap linoleum. Class had apparently ended, and I was once again sitting with a raging hardon that would become overly apparent if I stand up. Time to wrap that hoodie around my waist again. GOD I want Jolias so bad. But my heart fluttered as I realized I was done class. Well, "done" isn't exactly accurate in this context. I think I was done before class even began. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and texted Jolias. Hopefully he'd still want to get lunch. Or maybe he was still in the gym working out and I could go watch. Fuck yes where he sent back. I guess he was done too. I suggested the Den since I don't really want to have to travel far for lunch, and since we'd likely be meeting at the location of our choosing, it'd only prolong the amount of time before I got to see him again. Once I knew the hoodie was secure around my waist, I stood up, prepared to walk to the Den. Hopefully it was warm enough that I wouldn't feel too chilly without my hoodie on. I was suddenly very aware also that I'd apparently leaked a ton of pre into my pants as well. That's just great. Just thinking of this dude sent my cock into a frenzy. I mean, I leaked pre all the time when I was jerking off, but to leak so much just from thinking about a dude was new to me. It was exciting but embarrassing. And I still couldn't shake this feeling that, in the end, I'd wind up being disappointed. He hasn't shown me he wants our relationship to become sexual or romantic. Was I even in the slightest way prepared for the potentiality he only ever wanted to be just friends? I had to know. I had to make a plan to find out sooner rather than later. Maybe I can goad him into getting super close to me like he did last night, but instead of being a nervous wreck, I actually close the gap and put my lips on his. It's mostly harmless. He'll either recoil, or embrace it. We're both gay, that much we've established. So, he won't hate me if he dislikes a kiss. I could play it off as my thinking he wanted to. I mean, why else get that close to my face? Oh fuck, I was overthinking things. I need to just let things play out. But my throbbing cock was telling me to hurry things up. Exiting the building, I already regretted having only a short-sleeve shirt on. I'm going to need to start dressing for the inevitability that I'll always need to hide my raging boners. But I hurried my way to the Den, eager to see Jolias again. It'd only been about an hour since I last saw him, but it felt like forever.
  15. pasidious

    Jolias Finally Lets Go - Part 4

    Still building the story up. Sorry for the lack of growth. But it's coming. This may go in a totally different direction from what you're expecting, but there WILL be growth. Please let me know what you think! Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 _____________________________________________ "Aw god" I breathlessly seethed, my chest heaving up and down. I glanced at my hard throbbing cock as my hand stroked it, and it looked angry. Red, swollen, veiny, and harder than steel. I was lovingly squeezing and stroking slowly, my hand reaching my glans then back down to the base, then back up. The sensations my cock was sending through my body were more intense than I'd ever felt before. I didn't know if I was going through some sort of super-horny phase all of a sudden or if this was simply a result of... him. Jolias. Even thinking his name made me quiver, and once again, "Unngh fuck," I muttered as I lay in bed with nothing on but the moonlight streaming through the blinds, my hand squeezing my dick at the glans, sending those jolts of pressurized pleasure throughout my existence. There was no need for me to furiously beat my meat. I was shuddering and moaning in delight just from a slight touch. Just thinking about Jolias. I was trying so hard to imagine what he must really look like under those clothes. It was the worst time of year for gay dudes like me. All these hot guys out there and they're all covered up. But I wanted so hard to believe that Jolias had that tight sexy toned muscular body. The type that clearly looks like it worked out, even though his muscles weren't huge or anything. "Fuuuck," I groaned. Thinking about his body was making me quiver more. 'What if he was huge?' I thought to myself. I imagined what it'd look like if his pecs were pushing out of that shirt he was wearing, and abs were pressing against his shirt revealing outlines of each brick. No modesty, a dude who was proud of how big he'd grown, showing off without showing off. Maybe I could turn my space heater on and make it really hot in here so if he came over to chill he'd be forced to remove his hoodie... and I imagined watching him remove it, slowly undressing, seeing his limbs slide out from the sleeves revealing arms that were toned, defined, and just plain big. Vascular and strong. And he'd be wearing a black wife-beater, hugging the contours of the rest of his taut, muscled body. "Oh fuck," I breathlessly exclaimed, my cock jolting within my hand, making me squirm. "Like what you see?" he'd ask in my little new porno fantasy, smirking, his red eyes glinting. He caught me staring. But I wanted him to. He turns more towards me, takes a step forward, closing the gap between us. His pecs are pushing that wife-beater out, the valley between them obvious from the small garment covering so little. "How 'bout now?" he'd ask, flashing a seething hot smile, raising his arms and flexing them, making my mouth water. "Ah ahhhgod," I shudder, the pressure from my cock reaching its limit. I yank my hand away from my cock as it spasmed a bit, and I was a mere millisecond from shooting a giant load. I watched as pre dribbled from the tip, almost like it was showing me its dissatisfaction with my refusal to cum. Back to my fantasy, Jolias holds his arms up, raising and lowering them, pumping his arms and flexing hard. Veins are covering his forearms and his biceps are so big I feel like they're as big as my head. I realized my hand was back on my throbbing cock, and I couldn't remember putting it there. But fuck, I needed to cum. "I guess from the drool on your lip you do like what you see," Fantasy Jolias says, not winking but closing one eye for several seconds, sticking out that tongue of his in that impish way he did at Denny's. I blushed and looked away. 'Goddamnit even in my own fantasy I'm shy and unsure of myself' I think to myself. But then Fantasy Jolias steps forward and reaches out, grasping my upper arms right below the shoulders and lifts me up almost a whole foot into the air even though he's shorter than me. I watch his biceps bulge, a vein running over each of them, and I can see the striations in his shoulders. My eyes are wide and I look into his face and see nothing but a cocky grin, and he knows he's got all the power in the world over me. And then he slowly lowers me, showing his strength and endurance. He brings my face to his, and suddenly his lips are on mine. And they're soft and delicious. "Oh fuck fuck ohhh god," my hard cock is spasming and I wasn't even moving my hand. I squeezed my cock and knew I was already past the point of no return and reveled in the explosion about to occur. "FUCK!" I exclaimed feeling that unbearable pressure finally letting itself loose, and the cum that was launching from my balls into my cock shaft was hot and moved fast. The first shot was hard and intense and flew so high into the air I thought it would hit the ceiling. And then another one exploded from my tip, just as high as the last. I felt the cum raining down on me, hitting my chest, my stomach, my neck, and even my face. "God, oh god," I breathed as another volley exploded out, raining more cum upon me. "Enngghh" I groaned as two more shots came, still powerful and hard and hot. Finally, the next one was less intense, but still flew into the air, and then another shot, and then it died off and became a dribble of cum oozing from the tip and onto my hand. "Oh holy fuck," I whispered to myself as I lay there with cum drying on my body, chilling me. My chest was rising up and down as I caught my breath. My hand was still gripping my dick as it deflated, but I felt triumphant for finally releasing what had been building since around 6pm. And then I realized that once again my own fantasy didn't progress any further than what's basically foreplay. I so wanted to actually fantasize the sex part. Well, fuck, if I'm going to wish for things I might as well wish to actually have sex with him. In real life. I sighed at the thought. I cleaned myself up and actually went to bed, realizing I'd probably be super tired the entire next day. But it was worth it to finally shoot that massive load. *** I couldn't do it. I mean, I could do it, of course, but I kept holding the Denny's receipt in my hand with his number on it, constantly looking at it, marveling at something so insignificant as his handwriting. I just couldn't bring myself to do it, though. Text him. I hadn't even bothered to enter his number into my phone. And I think, on some level, I was afraid I'd text him and get no response. I'm sure a psychiatrist would have a field day with me. I could acknowledge it would be foolish of him to ignore me, since we share a class, and he'd have to face me eventually, but I've faced rejection before. There's no shame, at least on the part of the rejecter. I could text him, get no response, and when next I see him he could totally play it off like he never got my message or that his phone was dead or maybe he changed his number or... who knows? Or, he'd become cold and ignore me entirely. At least if I don't text him I could hold onto hope that we could become friends... or maybe more. Sometimes it's the not knowing that's preferable. But then I looked back at the little scrap of thermal paper with his cute but manly handwriting. 'Why put on this big show and go as far as sneaking his number into my pocket only to reject me?' I wondered to myself. I flicked the paper between my fingers, totally ignoring the fact that there was a professor giving a lecture and I should have been taking notes. I considered taking my phone out and texting him right now, but that would be conspicuous right in the middle of a class. So continued to sit there, ignoring the lecture, contemplating which path to take on the matter. Do I text him or be a little bitch and miss out on this opportunity? And it then occurred to me that maybe he really did want me to text him. And he might be waiting and waiting to see a text from me and disappointed that I haven't done it yet. My mind flashed an image of a disappointed Jolias, and it made my heart hurt. So immediately my mind switched to a new mode. An eager and anxious and antsy mode where all I could do was sit and squirm and impatiently wait for the class to end, still not even bothering to take notes because all I could think about was Jolias. What little I had written on my notebook was literally just his name. And not just his name, but his name in my own handwriting, and several times I attempted to copy his handwriting. And then, the only way I knew class was even over was because I saw everyone else getting up. I'm probably going to regret not paying attention at all. But I didn't even wait any longer, I jumped up, throwing my shit into my satchel and putting my coat on. I took out my cellphone and began moving out of the room to escape to the solitude of the library to wait for the next class. I had a little bit of time between these classes but not enough to go to my dorm. I crossed the threshold of the classroom door and looked down at my phone, ignoring whatever few notifications I had on the screen and immediately entered the phone function so I could add his number officially to my contacts. I put his name in and it even crossed my mind to add other little icons next to his name, but... I decided not to. It seemed lame. And a bit too soon. And now, with his name officially in my contacts, I opened the messenger app and typed in his name and it popped right up. "Jolias" it said on the screen in the "To:" field. ...And I got stuck. What do I even say? It's been too long for me to be casual about it. But knowing that, how do I reconcile it? What do I do to smooth over the fact I waited almost twelve hours to text him? But... wait a minute. We aren't dating. He hasn't even exactly shown interest in dating me. So why treat it like we are? We've barely breached the threshold of friendship. So... On autopilot as I walked my way out of the main classroom building, I finally managed to input text into the body of the message. "Hey it's Mike" and I hit send. And then immediately after that: "How's your day so far?" and send. And then like the impatient and anxious person that I am, I stared at the screen waiting for the little bubble with the dots to pop up, somehow believing he'd be ready to respond right away. But nothing happened. I continued making my way to the library building, staring at my phone and only glancing up long enough to make sure I wasn't going to run into anyone or anything. And I suddenly caught something in my vision. Somehow I managed to catch it. A small, brief glimpse. Still with phone in hand, my attention was suddenly on something else. A dude with dark hair and dark complexion up ahead heading in another direction. Weirdly enough, the campus gym was close to the library building. I could see the library and its main entrance, and this person was heading in the direction of the gym entrance. 'Fuck fuck fuck!' I thought to myself. I mean, I wanted to see him, but at the same time, I didn't. I'd rather stick to the worrying over texting for now. I couldn't see his face, so I was uncertain if it was even Jolias. He rounded the corner and out of sight. But if it was him, I guess it's quite a good sign to see him going to the gym. But then I looked down at my phone. Still no new message. No bubbles. Nothing. I sighed. I considered, as I was passing the gym, to go and see if it was him that entered. But then it'd be awkward and weird, just walking into the gym and looking around then exiting. And then I thought 'Fuck it' and hurriedly walked over to the gym doors and peered through the little window. I could see several other students milling about, some in workout clothes, others in regular attire. But I couldn't see him. But that meant nothing because I wasn't seeing the dude I saw walk in. I started to turn to walk away but looked through the window again. I had to at least take one moment to appreciate the hot dudes showing off their nice bodies with the revealing gym attires. Some women would get in the way, though. And then I had enough and turned again to walk away, only to immediately bump right into another person who was trying to get into the gym. "S-sorry," I stuttered out, before looking up and seeing him. "'S'okay, dude," he said, smiling that smile. "J-Jolias!" I stuttered again, wanting to recede into nothing as I realized the dude who hadn't yet texted me back was standing right in front of me. "Why you so stressed, dude?" he asked, play-punching my shoulder. I guess I didn't appear as relaxed as I thought I did. Although I hadn't been thinking about how relaxed I appeared, period. I shrugged. "I dunno," I said, trying to come off as aloof. And then, "I'm sorry I only just texted you like, ten minutes ago." He smiled again, and almost nervously replied, "I was getting worried you wouldn't text me at all," he stated. There was the slightest tremble in his voice as he said those words. "So you did get my text..." I muttered, probably saying out loud what I should have kept in my head. "Yeah, dude, and didn't you see what I said back?" 'What?' I thought to myself. 'No dude I didn't because you didn't text me ba--' I stopped my own thought as I looked at my phone and saw there was, in fact, a new message. From Jolias. "Sup dude so glad to hear from you im geting out of class now headed to the gym wanna come?" "Oh. Huh. I guess I didn't hear my phone go off..." I muttered, seriously wondering how I missed it. "So, wait, you were coming here anyway? I figured you were here to meet me since I asked if you wanted to come!" he said excitedly, smiling. And now I felt really awkward because I was really only here to be a creep and stalk him. And it wasn't even him I was stalking. Bonus points that he was going to the gym, though! "I, uh, yeah, I was just... trying to meet you here," clearly a lie. He cocked his head, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't you just say you didn't know I text you back?" Fuck. "Umm..." and then I just acquiesced, having lost all energy to try to maintain any façade. "Okay, please don't think I'm, y'know, a creep, but I thought I saw you go in here--" I gestured at the building, "--and I was trying to see if it really was you." "Ohhh shit," he said grinning, "That's not creepy, that's just a dude trying to see his friend!" I exhaled a deep breath I didn't know I'd taken. "Ah, yeah, that's... actually a good way to see it," I said, smiling, more relieved than anything else. Jolias pulled out his phone and glanced at it and then put it right back in his pocket. "Well, it's already past 11, wanna join me?" he asked, a hopeful grin on his face. "Fuck," I muttered, looking at my own phone to confirm the time. "Nah, I can't, I got class in less than ten minutes. Another time?" "Fuck yeah, dude, we should figure out what our schedules look like so we know when we're both free during the day," he said, thrusting his chin at me, a somewhat cocky grin on his face. "Text me, alright?" he said, just like last night. He then play-punched my shoulder again and brushed past me to enter through the gym doors. "Later, dude!" he called as the doors closed. His total joviality is something from which I ought to be taking a lesson. He's so relaxed about things. And I'm sincerely getting the impression that I'm way overthinking everything. So, I took my phone, which was still in my hand, and unlocked it, opened the messenger, and texted him. Nothing major. Kind of lame. But, it was something. " enjoy the pump!" And this time, in mere seconds the bubble popped up. And then: "hell ya dude lets try n get lunch together". My heart jumped, and I was dangerously low on time for class but 'fuck it, I'll be late' I thought to myself. I responded: " I'll let ya kno when im done class ".
  16. geektofreek

    A Conversation with my Son

    I don’t usually like to talk about these sort of things. Personal problems and such. But my son, Aidan.... He’s just growing so out of control! You would think at nineteen-years old he would have stopped or slowed down a little. But no, not him. It’s almost as if his growth just keeps on increasing. Taller, wider, bigger. This never ending factory of testosterone! Especially his muscles. 270-pounds now. I’ve honestly never felt so small and inferior around another man before! “M-“Maybe it’s time you get a girlfriend or something, Aidan...“ I couldn’t help but stutter one night. Right at the dinner table. Watching him obsessively flex between each few bites. So in love with own increasing prowess. His own muscles. He could barley take his eyes off himself. “Meh...” Aidan, grunted in response. Finishing off every last bit of meat. *BURRRPPP “No ones really captivated my attention...” He continued. Giving his mammoth muscle arm a couple of pumps next. 24-inches of hulking teenage bicep. Seeming not even the slightest bit interested in the conversation. No girls. Not even guys. I honestly wouldn’t have cared if he was gay. But it was always just about his muscles. Nothing more. “Plus, I honestly just want to focus on getting bigger...” Aidan, stated like always. Pumping the Everest-sized peak of freaky bicep, right up against his face. Staring at it obsessively. “Bigger?” I stuttered. Actually dropping my fork to the floor. And yet the topic of conversation held me completely captivated. With my curosity finally at a tipping point. I just had to know... How big did my son want to grow? “Well, like... How much bigger...?” So I finally just had to ask. Seeing a bit of surprise in his face. The big wheels in his small head, slowly began to turn. With his face even turning a little red. It was almost as if he was embarrassed to admit. “It’s ok, son... We’re all friends here.” I tried to comfort him. But even my own curiosity wasn’t prepared for the magnitude of my sons muscle lust. “I don’t know, Dad...” Aidan, finally spoke up. “I’ve honestly been having the craziest dreams...” He continued. Already making me gulp. Watching him bring down one his arms. Adjusting himself in his seat. Pulling and tugging at his skintight bulging gym shorts. “Muscle growth dreams, I guess you could say...” He even bit his lips a bit. “Muscle growth dreams?” I questioned. “Yeah, Dad...” Aidan, gulped a bit. “Except sometimes, well... I don’t ever stop growing!” He shockingly continued. “Bigger, and bigger, and BIGGER!” Groaning with this insatiable lust. Cringing the words through his teeth. “J-Jesus, Aidan...” Leaving me to stutter in even more disbelief. Especially as I watched his huge nipples began to harden up. Adjusting himself so much in his chair, it began to creak and crack. Almost as if he was getting horned up. “400... 500-POUNDS of muscle!!” Aidan, unexpectedly snarled. This untamed beastly muscle lust. Suddenly flexing into a most muscular pose. blowing his tank-top apart like paper. Right at the diner table. *RIIIIPPPP* “F-FUCK!!” Making me squeal like some school girl. Shrink into my chair. Suddenly overshadowed by these two absolutely monstrous blimps of muscle-breast. Pecs bigger then watermelons. Twice as hairy as my own. “But you’re already so big, son...” I blubbered in confusion. Feeling as if I had opened up the biggest can of worms. And yet he was nowhere near finished describing his fantasy. “More... and more... AND MORE!” He shamelessly continued. “800-pounds... 900-POUNDS! Urrghhh!” Aidan, really groaned. Grossly bucking his hips, his huge dick, a couple times against the underside of the table. “1000-pounds...” Aidan, shuttered. Whimpered. As if that was the ultimate number. This big ungodly muscle goal. “Unnghh... I’m so sorry, Dad...” Aidan, cringed. looking down at his foot-long boner. Actually lifting the table off the floor. Trying to stop himself. Control himself. “The big pussy crusher”, I heard his friends once refer to it as. “I just get so excited...” Aidan, admitted. Rubbing his gigantic shirtless muscle chest. Flicking his huge rock hard muscle nips. Even though he was embarrassed. But then again, this wasn’t the first time this had happened. Seeing my son uncontrollably horned up was becoming an increasingly awkward event. Usually occurring after a heavy workout. But never so randomly like this. “It o-ok, Son...” I tried to be supportive. “That’s quite the hungry appetite you got there...” I stated admiringly. With his cock still raging out of control. Sliding the dishes slowly towards me. My unsatisfied curiosity drove my ignorance to whole new playing field. “Is it even possible for someone to grow that size!?” I don’t know why I asked. Obviously it wasn’t possible. And yet I just couldn’t seem to stop myself from feeding back into my sons insane fantasies. “I don’t know if it’s possible, Dad... but I want it SO BAD!” Aidan, groaned with unbearable lust. Cringing and biting his teeth helplessly. With his cock suddenly throbbing, raging, what appeared to be a whole inch bigger. I thought he was going to cum! Remembering all those times I had to change his sheets the past couple months. All the wet dreams he was having... Were they really all just about him growing!? “Jees, son... At that size, you’d be squatting semi-trucks.” I chuckled jokingly... *RIIIPPPPP* “SEMI-TRUCKS!? Unnnghh, DAD!!!” Aidan, roared with embarrassment. As he finally cummed uncontrollably. “My LEGS would have to be ENORMOUS!!” He roared with wonder. As if I exploded his imagination. Watching his gym shorts actually blow apart. With his huge horse crushing cock emerging. Engorging to a whole new level of monstrosity. Gushing like a fire hydrant. So much cum I didn’t even think it was possible! Rope after rope of thick warm semen all over the chair, the table, his feet... his gigantic ape-sized hairy muscle legs. “YOU shouldn’t SAY such things, DAD!!!” Aidan, had totally lost it. Groaning in totally agony. A big rumbling pleasure explosion. Tilting his neck back helplessly. What a fucking beast. With his eyes closed in cringing embarrassment. I shamelessly peeked underneath the table... “Oh god...” I weeped even more. How was this my own creation? My own flesh and blood? My own son? Never seeing a cock so big in my life... Not even in the wildest of pornos! And he just couldn’t stop cumming. Leaking so much man-juice all over the floor. Even his shoes. Draining his big bull-sized testicles down to the very last drop. Like he hadn’t had released himself in months. Rumbling our tiny house as he helplessly bucked his huge car crushing muscle butt. “Dad... Please...” Aidan, choked up a bit. Knowing I must have been caught. “Please don’t look...” He even begged me a bit. I didn’t know how else to respond. Raising my head up. Seeing him still panting with his tongue sticking out. His face stuffed around nothing but muscle. Suffocated by his traps and pecs. Drooling helplessly down his colossal hairy chest. “I swear, I’m not gay!!” Aidan, unexpectedly continued. Looking beyond perplexed. “I just really... REALLY like MUSCLE!” He shuttered a bit more. Shooting out one last throat choking load. All his muscles bulging, tensing. “Jesus fuck, son...” Was all I could seem to say. “I guess I better start buying you more chickens then...”
  17. pasidious

    The Outline

    Here's a little one-off story. Hope you all like it. __________________________________ I knew what he liked. He told me himself. We hadn't seen each other in a long time, probably over a year. In fact, we never really ever hung out together, just the two of us. We'd only ever really seen each other in passing or at a mutual friend's party. I wasn't exactly overt with my homosexuality, but I knew he was gay. But he called me out on it fast. He somehow knew I was gay without knowing much about me at all. He'd randomly messaged me out of the blue and asked if I was gay, and I was thinking, "how the hell does he even know?" We'd never ever hung out or even spoken more than just a few sentences with each other and only in passing. But he somehow knew. But whatever, I didn't care. I wasn't overt with it, but I wasn't really hiding it, either. Even after that night, though, when he called me out on my gayness, we'd barely speak. We'd sometimes message each other and just make small talk, but nothing more than that. Still never hung out before. But one time he mentioned something that piqued my interest. He told me he liked when dudes walked into his store wearing gray sweatpants. I was like "why?" and he said that he liked seeing well-endowed bulges in them. He found that really sexy. So, just the other night, it randomly popped back into my head. The fact that he liked seeing bulges in sweatpants. For some reason, I wanted to fiddle with this some more. So I randomly messaged him and said "I bet you're missing the cold weather because now you won't be seeing any gray sweatpants for a while," and he responded with "oh it's better now, because they're wearing basketball shorts." I thought, "wow, that was a better response than I could have imagined." I like to play dumb sometimes to see what responses happen, so I said, "why is that better?" and he said "because it's thinner material and much easier to see free-ballers' cock outlines," which was pretty much the response I expected. But I couldn't help also thinking that he was right. That IS pretty damn hot. Seeing a dude walk in nonchalantly going about his day with his cock outlined behind thin fabric. So I played with this conversation for a little while, asking him what was hot about it, and if he thought bigger truly is better (to which he said YES), and I even asked him if he liked to see a cock already hard, or if he likes to see it grow. Of course he said it's hotter to watch it grow, but hot nonetheless if it's already hard. He also said he prefers growers and seeing a big difference between soft and hard. He even sent me a picture example of the cock outlines he likes, and it was of a young guy (probably early 20s) taking a selfie in the mirror, shirtless with his nicely muscled body tensed, and a very clear cock outline through his thin shorts. He was certainly hot. So, this is how I found out exactly what he liked. And I planned on exploiting that for my own benefit. Well, for both our benefit. He worked at a Verizon Wireless store as a manager. He was responsible for selling phones and phone plans, among other responsibilities, and thanks to the pandemic, he'd often be working alone due to reduced labor and hours. I was going to pay him a visit. I had no need for a new phone or anything, but I did have another need. So, I put on some thin gym shorts with no underwear and a T-shirt, and headed to his store. Now, I'm a thin guy, but I had some definition and muscle, thanks to my at-home exercising, but I had a grower of a cock. Nine inches long and thick as a soda can when hard. I walked into his store and saw him sitting at one of the tables, and he of course stood up when he saw me walk in. "Hey!" he said, thinking this was a plain old visit. "I didn't know you needed a new phone." "I don't, I just figured I'd stop by and visit." Of course, at this moment, my dick was completely soft, so no sign of it through my shorts. "Oh, so what's up?" "Nothin' much, really. Just bored. You been busy?" "Nah, I've had a whole two customers all day, and if I count you, three." I chuckled a little. "Damn, that's gotta make the day go slow," I said, but I decided to get the ball rolling. I adjusted my cock through my shorts and made no effort to hide it. His eyes were immediately drawn to this movement, and I was glad he saw. "Y-yeah, it feels like two days should have passed but it's only been six hours." Seeing him watching my crotch now was honestly turning me on. I honestly love the idea of a dude seeing my hardon through my pants. I felt my cock twitching within the confines of the thin gym-shorts fabric, and he wasn't doing a very good job of hiding where his eyes were. "My eyes are up here, dude," I said, laughing. "Fuck," he said, averting his eyes and looking to his right. I just laughed some more. "No, I want you to look. Watch." And this is where I felt my cock really surge. He turned his head back and looked directly at my crotch, and I felt my cock growing wildly, throbbing and swelling with my heartbeats, bigger and bigger, and its outline was soon very clear through the material. "This is what you like, right?" I asked. He just nodded his head. I grabbed my cock with my right hand and squeezed, and felt it continuing to swell. I only held it for a few seconds, and then let go, but I swear his mouth was watering. "Yeah, I'm getting sooo hard," I said, and I could tell he was getting super hard too. His pants weren't as revealing, but I definitely saw a tent. I was completely and fully hard now, my cock throbbing hard, and yes, its outline was clearly displayed. "So, what're we gonna do now?" I asked. He didn't waste any time. He grabbed my hand and pulled me into the back room, away from the front windows, and then grabbed my cock through my shorts. FUCK it felt good. My cock has been in need of some attention. "Oh yeah, feel my hard cock," I said. He ran his hand over my cock, squeezing it, pressing it, and it felt amazing. I was getting more and more turned on. "Something else I know you like," I said, and flexed my arms for him. "Holy shit," he said, and I didn't really have much muscle, but seeing me flex was still something I knew he'd like. I'd been working out a bit and I had some newly decent arms to speak of. I'd even worn an older shirt so my arms would be more pronounced within the tighter sleeves. He reached up and put his hands on my biceps, and squeezed. My muscles weren't huge, but I loved showing them off, and it felt even better having them felt. My cock throbbed within my shorts. I could feel the telltale sensation of pre oozing from my tip, wetting the fabric of my shorts. "You like that?" I asked, knowing full well that he did. He nodded. I grabbed his left hand and guided it under my shirt and put it on my chest. My small but still hard and pronounced pecs were pushing out, and when I felt the palm of his hand make contact, I flexed my pecs and let him feel the hard muscle. "Holy shit," he said again. He prodded the muscle and pushing and squeezed, and then his fingers sought out my nipple and pinched it. "Unnghh" I moaned, the sensation overwhelming. His hand then ventured down to my abs, which, again, weren't phenomenal, but still there and pretty defined. He ran his fingers over the bricks of muscle, and I was in heaven. I loved having my body felt. My cock was throbbing so hard right now, and definitely oozing more pre. His hands then ventured to my back and stayed under my shirt. He was definitely enjoying feeling my body, and his hands were roaming all over the place. He pressed himself into me and I could feel his hard cock pressing into my own throbbing dick. It felt hot as fuck. But then, while I was distracted by my cock sending shivers down my spine, I felt his lips make sudden and hard contact with my own, and I instinctively pressed back with the kiss. It was a passionate kiss, and we held it for what felt like hours. Our tongues were intertwining, and we were definitely fighting for dominance. He either let me win or I'm just stronger. Either way, my tongue dominated his mouth, and he continued kissing me without breaking away. But he seemed pretty good at making a distraction, because while I was reeling from his sudden kiss, my attention was snapped back to my cock. My throbbing hard drooling cock. The front of my shorts was so wet. He had slipped his hand beneath my waistband and grabbed my cock. And as soon as he squeezed, I felt a moan escape my throat, and a much louder one escaped his simultaneously. "I've been waiting for so long to finally see your cock," he said while pulling his mouth from mine. And before I could even think of a response to that, he took his other hand and hooked his fingers beneath my waistband and pulled my shorts down, allowing my cock to reel out in all its glory. I heard him gasp when he saw it in the flesh. "Aw yeah, I'm just... I'm just gonna--" and then he got on his knees and swallowed my cock. All of it. He took every inch of it into his mouth and immediately bathed it in his tongue, wrapping it all around and sucking hard. My eyes rolled back into my head and I felt like I could collapse, but I had to stand strong. He continued his sucking, deep-throating my big dick, and I was feeling this amazing euphoria I'd never experienced before. He was an amazing cock-sucker. I watched as he took his own dick out, and using one hand, started jerking himself while sucking on mine, gripping the back of my leg with his other hand. I'd noticed some time ago, after I'd started working out and building my body, that flexing my biceps while jerking off would somehow enhance the feeling. I'd get even hornier and harder. So, without even thinking about it, while his mouth was working my dick, I flexed my right arm, marveling at how nicely shaped and round my biceps had become. I flexed and unflexed, watching my ball of muscle expand. I pulled my sleeve over it, and flexed again, and FUCK was it hot to see how tight my sleeve was wrapped around my arm. My dick was throbbing and pulsing, and I felt hornier now than ever before. I heard a gasp, and I saw him looking up at my arm as I held it aloft, flexed hard, and then "...Mmunngggh" he moaned, shutting his eyes, briefly lapsing in his sucking, and I watched his entire body visibly shudder as I saw his dick shoot cum all over the cheaply-carpeted floor. Just seeing that made me want to blow my load. I felt my dick angrily expand and my balls contract, signaling impending orgasm, but I mustered the willpower to hold it in. I wasn't ready. But I was fucking close. He opened his eyes again, looked back up at me, and I smirked back at him. "Fucking close, man, keep going," I said, and he didn't hesitate. He took my cock down his throat, past his epiglottis, and was clearly a pro at resisting the gag reflex. His tongue was furiously running itself over my thick veiny shaft, and I saw him looking up at me expectantly. "Oh, is this what you wanna see?" and I flexed my arm again. "Mmmm" he moaned, and I felt my cock throbbing harder and harder. "How about this?" I said, and brought my other arm up, flexing both as hard as I could. The sensation of my growing biceps flexing into rocks in my tight sleeves was too much. "Oh god, oh god, it's coming, I'm cumming!" I exclaimed, and I felt his lips contract around my cock. "Unnghhhhh!" I moaned, and I felt the massive amount of cum running into my shaft and exploding out of my tip. "Fuck!" I exclaimed again, not even meaning to. I felt shot after shot explode from my dick, but unlike what I was used to, ever single bit of it was unseen. My cocksucker was swallowing every drop. Which was impressive, to say the least, because I was a huge cummer. I regularly shot six or seven times. But this wasn't a regular occasion. I felt my body shiver and shudder, and the sensation of this orgasm was rocking me to my core. It was intense beyond belief, and it felt soooo gooooood. "Unngh" I moaned as the sixth volley launched from my cock, and then the seventh. "Mmmmm" he moaned, and I was glad he was taking it all. After the ninth shot, I finally felt it dwindle to just a dribble, and then one more dry shot. He sucked for a bit longer, making me squirm, and then pulled his lips off. He said nothing, not yet. He took his hand and milked my still mostly-hard cock, and I watched as a little more cum oozed from my tip, and he took his tongue and licked it all off. He then fell backwards and collapsed on the floor, laying on his back, and I watched his chest heaving up and down, completely out of breath. Finally, he spoke up, "Fuck, dude. That was hot." "Yeah, it was. You're amazing at that." "What, sucking dick?" he laughed. "Yeah, I've had a lot of practice, but I've wanted to suck your dick for years now. I finally got to today." "Fuck. Really? That long?" "Yeah." "Well then. Maybe I'll surprise you again sometime," I said with a wink. "Fuck yeah, dude. Please. Or maybe I'll visit you at home," he winked back. "Just do me a favor." "What's that?" "Flex more next time. It's hot as FUCK." I laughed. "Alright, will do. I'll hopefully be even bigger then, too," I said, then lifted the bottom of my shirt and flexed my bicep. And then, I watched as his little dick started growing again.
  18. londonboy

    Might I Suggest

    I had merely suggested that they might like to see my house – knowing full well it would impress them. I had been chatting with the two big guys at the gym and invited them home for lunch. I could immediately sense that the invitation made them both very uncomfortable, so I had simply focused on the larger of the two guys and thought about how he might really like to see my place. I thought about how the home gym and plush movie room would of specific interest. He had immediately accepted the offer on behalf of the two of them – much to the consternation of his friend. We were now standing in the large living space that opened out to the pool at my home – the beach, in sight, beyond. I loved the fact that the two guys were so confident that they acted like they were whispering, but spoke loud enough for me to hear – it’s just something cocky guys like to do. It’s as if they are marking their territory or something. It was meant to intimidate me if I had any ulterior motives. “I’m not feeling comfortable with this, man. Don’t you remember how this guy was staring at us while we were working out? It’s like he was imagining us naked. I say we split.” “Are you kidding dude? Look at this place. This guy is fucking rich. I say we milk this for everything we can. Besides, he’s so tiny either one of us could squash him like a grape with little effort. We got nothing to be scared of. Let’s just sit back and enjoy the ride. It’s nice to be pampered.” “Might I suggest we sit over here to have our drinks,” I said, calmly, pointing to a sofa and chairs near the pool. I had placed their two beers on a table in front of the large couch – making it pretty clear that they might want to sit near each other. I took my place in a chair directly across from them. The larger guy, Hank was his name, moved over to the sofa. When he sat down he picked up the glass I had placed beside his bottle of beer and stared at it with a confused face as he took a big swallow. “What’s this for? You gonna serve water, too?” “Might I suggest you pour your beer in it?” “What for?” asked Hank, the larger of the two large men, as he took another quick sip. “Cause it’s civilized, dude! Just do it,” answered Toby as he sat next to his workout partner and poured his beer obediently into the glass. He sat exactly where I hoped he would. Hank gave him a ‘what the fuck’ look and then followed suit. “Might I suggest you two make yourselves more comfortable.” “I don’t know, mister. I’m pretty fucking comfortable. I worked my ass off in the gym and have a mega-pump, I’m sipping nice beer from a glass, and I’m sitting in what I’m sure is a ten-million-dollar home. Can it get much more comfortable?” “Might I suggest you take off your shirt, Hank?” “Hell yeah! I mean, if you don’t mind, sir. Come on Tob, let’s go shirtless.” “Dude, this is all a little weird. Besides, I don’t want to see your man-boobs.” “I know, bro, but I just gotta uncover these puppies. It’s like if I don’t let them breathe I’m gonna die. It feels like my shirt is as heavy as a suit of armor or something. And it’s so fucking hot.” In an instant, Hank had his shirt off and if he had man-boobs, as Toby called them – then I’d say I must be a man-boob fanatic. His chest was miraculous. Heavy, heavy thick looking pecs that tensed and bounced as he moved. My mouth watered. The young man was enormous, like a young Lou Ferrigno. I could sense he was the more adventurous of the two – more gregarious and ready to embrace life. I did like Toby’s reserve, though. I had a feeling he was much more mature than his friend but loved hanging out with Hank so much, that he just accepted his friend as he was. They had told me they had known each other a really long time. Both were waiters at a fancy restaurant near the beach, while Hank had just started pursuing bodybuilding and Toby worked hard to build a modeling career. Toby’s looks matched Hank’s hugeness. The smaller big man had a fitness model physique and a face that had certainly caused many-a-wet-dreams over the years. I appreciated beauty as much as I did muscles. “Toby . . . I’m sure you’d be able to catch a few rays while we’re out here drinking and dining. I’m thinking you’d love to darken that already gorgeous tan of yours. Am I right?” “Yes sir. That’s good thinking. I could sure use a little more sun,” Toby replied as he put his beer down, grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt, and lifted it to reveal one of the most chiseled physiques I had ever seen. The two men were like the perfect pair – salt and pepper, Jack and Coke, oysters and champagne, or Ben and Matt. I loved huge pumped muscle – represented by Hank, but I also loved that low body-fat look of a sculpted surfer – represented by Toby. I had chosen perfectly. I pushed a button on the table beside me and soon an elder gentleman stepped out onto the patio. “Gentlemen, might I introduce my friend and butler, Alfred. Alfred, this is Toby and Hank,” I said, pointing to the appropriate guy when I spoke his name. “Gentlemen,” Alfred responded with a raised right eyebrow. “What’s up Al?” Hank said and I saw my butler cringe a little. “It’s nice to meet you, sir,” said Toby, and this made Alfred smile. “What would you like for lunch, guys?” I asked. “You mean, like we would say anything and this Alfred, here, is going to go and make whatever we ask for?” Hank said with total glee in his voice. “No, no, no – not Alfred,” I replied, as the older gentleman turned to me with a shocked look. “He will merely go and order it with the chef. Might I suggest a salmon and shrimp Caesar salad, with toasted garlic bread and then a big cheese and fruit platter for dessert. I also think a nice sauvignon blanc will go nicely with that.” “Is that a vegetable?” Hank asked. “It’s a wine, dude,” Toby quickly said, “That sounds really nice, mister.” “Thank you, Alfred. If you would let the chef know. Oh, how do you like our new friends?” “I haven’t seen bodies as nice as that since . . . um . . . yesterday, sir,” Alfred said, rolling his eyes and heading towards the kitchen. “Do you have a lot of servants, dude?” Hank asked, taking another sip of his beer. “Man, they’re not servants . . . they’re staff. Jeez!” exclaimed Toby. “Well excuse me, do you have a lot of staff, mister?” “A few, yes. By the way, you fellows may call me, Saxon,” I answered. “No more of this ‘mister,’ stuff.” “Is that your name? Wow, it sounds like SAX-ON-the-beach!” Hank said, laughing and getting a ‘shut up’ look from his friend. “Fellas, do the two of you ever wear posers?” I asked, stepping to an outdoor fridge behind a bar to get them two more beers. “You mean those skimpy little bathing suits? Naw, I’m not in competition shape, yet, so I haven’t had to buy one. I’m not sure I’m going to like them. As for Mr. Three-Legged-Toby, here, he can’t wear them because of his larger-than-life endowment. I swear the eight inches I’ve got on him in height all went to his crotch. He’s a monster.” Hank said, boasting openly for his friend. “Dude, some things don’t need to be shared,” Toby said. “It’s not like you can hide it, Tob-ster. Trust me, Saxon, it’s the first thing girls notice when we go out to bars. I’m standing there – six feet, ten inches of solid muscle, but the dames are all looking at his crotch. Most of them are scared to shit of the thing, but there are a few that usually take on the challenge.” “Over-sharing, Hank. I’m serious. Saxon does not want to hear about my dick, okay?” Toby said, clearly embarrassed by the conversation, but he also seemed a little proud of his giant tool, which had definitely not gone unnoticed by me – how could it? “Well, getting back to posers, I just happen to have some new ones in that table at the end of the sofa, Hank. Yes, just in there. Might I suggest that you two get even more comfortable and put some on. There are all sizes, Toby, so your more-than-ample endowment will not have to worry. It would please me very much and brighten the day even more than it already is.” “Wow, these things are really kind of hot,” Hank said as he opened the drawer and pulled out a bunch of still-tagged posers – all different colors and sizes. Toby looked on with horror and nervousness. I knew he’d need a little more convincing. Hank, on the other hand, had already started laying a few across his crotch to imagine what they might look like. “Surely, someone with a body like yours, Toby, and that of your friend’s, should not be covered with unnecessary layers of material. All the work you have done to make yourself buff, it’s only right and kind to let others behold the fruits of your labor.” “Well, when you put it like that, Saxon, it does sound selfish not to share,” Toby said in agreement – his words actually shocking himself. “It would be damn selfish,” Hank added – clearly ready to change. “You got an outdoor changing room Sax, buddy?” “Might I suggest that you both just change right here,” I said, slowly and clearly. “We’re all grown men and there won’t be anything revealed we’ve never seen before. That is, unless you’re embarrassed by your god given bodies and shy about your private parts.” “Fuck it, I did circle jerks with teammates in the locker room during college, so changing here is a piece of cake. I’ve got nothing to hide,” Hank said standing up and pulling down his sweats and briefs at the same time – in one quick, glorious move. Indeed, the huge specimen of manhood definitely had nothing to hide. His thighs looked as big as chairs and the muscles tensed beautifully as he moved. He also had nothing to be ashamed about in the meat department – sometimes a really big man does, indeed, have a nice sized penis, too. There was no ‘trying to make up for shortcomings below the belt’ causing Hank’s lust for bodybuilding. A nicely proportioned, thick, slightly curved dick hung invitingly between his legs as he pulled up some gold, shiny posers he had chosen. It was only when Toby slowly stood up and pulled down his shorts and underwear that Hank’s endowments became obsolete. Most wine bottles were not as thick as this young man’s cock and it hung down almost to knee level. He could have easily been taken for an elephant. The way that it flopped around told me it wasn’t even slightly hard at this insane size, which made me immediately want to suggest something to stimulate it, but I nixed that idea for later on. I swear the obnoxiously large cock only looked right . . . symmetrical . . . because Toby had this sculpted-by-the-gods body with appropriate bulges everywhere. He was of decent height – probably six feet – and his beautiful muscles made you accept the tree he was now stuffing into triple extra-large black posers. I’m sure his goal was that the color would help hide his more-than-a-horse cock, but it was also clear that was hopeless. I swear the thing could actually wrap around his waist. “Now, I think that makes all of us feel a lot better, don’t you,” I said to ease any lingering stress and it seemed to work. “Yeah, I’m feeling really good. Nice beer, snug posers, pumped body, the sun beating down on me, and a fucking mansion surrounding me,” Hank said, his face truly registering how happy he was. “Yes sir, this is nice,” replied the more reserved Toby, adjusting his monumental package. “How big is your chest, Hank?” I asked and the normally outspoken young man turned a little red and looked down at his huge pecs. “I’ve swelled these puppies up to fifty-seven inches in the last month. Gonna hit sixty by the end of the year. I can feel it,” Hank said, tensing the pecs together and then bouncing them. “Probably my best body part. I just got to get the rest of my muscles on par with my pecs and I’ll be ready to compete.” “It looks like you are well on your way, young man,” I replied, admiring his enormous size. “I bet you like to play with your big chest, don’t you?” “Yeah . . . yeah, I do. Like right now. I love to manhandle the big things – trying hard to compress the hard muscle,” he answered – his eyes not leaving his own chest and his hands groping the big mounds with not an ounce of self-consciousness. “Dude, what are you doing?” asked Toby, who was staring at his friend in disbelief. “Can’t help it man, I just sometimes got to feel all this thick muscle. I love how all this hard beef swells when I tense it. And watch – I can make them bounce together or one at a time,” Hank answered, and then he made his pecs do exactly as he had said. “Wouldn’t you like to feel one of his massive pecs, Toby? I bet Hank would love to share the privilege of groping – after all, there are two of them,” I suggested softly – imagining exactly what it would look like. “Oh, hell yeah, T-man. I’d love to have you clamping a strong hand down on my big pec. Bring it in, mister T and show me what you can do.” Hank said, looking into the eyes of his friend. “Those big things are really hot,” Toby said, unbelieving the words came out so easily, and his right hand went up to grip Hank’s massive pec with spread fingers. “Oh shit, dude, they’re so much harder than I thought they’d be.” “Wait til I tense them, dude,” Hank replied and then he flexed his chest with all his might – forcing Toby’s fingers to have to lessen their grip and making both men let little moans escape their mouths. “Fuck, feel free to squeeze harder, dude, my meat can take it. Yeah, hard to hold on to all that tensed beef, isn’t it, dude?” “It’s not hard to hold on to that big-ass nipple, punk,” Toby said as his fingers pinched Hank’s nub hard. “Yeowwww!!!! Oh, fuck that feels good, man,” Hank yelled. “Do it again!” “Look at you, loving the abuse,” Toby said. “You have no idea, Tobster – no idea,” Hank replied, as he let his head fall back and he closed his eyes. The bigger man had started tugging on his other nip in rhythm with his friend’s yanks on the first one. Soft growl-like sounds came from somewhere deep inside Hank. He was enjoying the abuse of his nips, completely. I refused to touch myself as I watched the show. I simply took a sip of the drink I had made myself and gazed at all the muscled beauty before me. The men had forgotten I was there. Toby was looking at his friend’s big pec – mesmerized by how much power he could use on the other guy’s nipple. I wanted to see just how powerful my talents for persuasion could take me. “That plump man-knob looks like it could use a mouth sucking on it, don’t you think, Toby? That would certainly make you feel nice, now wouldn’t it, Hank?” I said as calmly as I could. “Oh, fuck yeah.” “I would like to taste it, bud,” Toby said, politely and with begging in his eyes. That was all the permission the big bodybuilder needed. He grabbed the back of Toby’s head with his big hand and forcibly directed the guy’s face to his waiting pec with its jutting nipple. I could hear how hard Toby’s face hit by the smack it made. The smaller man didn’t seem to mind, at all. He simply began sucking on the nub sticking out from the swollen meat protruding from Hank’s big torso. From the immediate sounds of grunts and groans coming from both men, it was very hard to determine who was enjoying themselves more. Toby’s lips and mouth suctioned so hard that his cheeks caved in and gave him the look of a starved model. Hank writhed uncontrollably from the pleasure suck he was receiving – taking his friend’s head into the air as his back left the sofa. “Damn, Toby that mouth of yours is so fucking hot!” Hank said, without even thinking about it. “Toby does have a beautiful, sweet mouth, doesn’t he, Hank?” I said softly. “Wouldn’t you like to know what those lips, that tongue and his warm mouth taste like?” I was pushing the envelope and I knew it. I didn’t care. The big boy on big boy action happening in front of me was almost too much for me to handle. Huge muscled beef being licked, kissed, and sucked by this beautiful chiseled young man was much more than I had ever dreamed possible when I set out to the gym today. I wanted to see where all of this could lead. I wanted to satisfy all the urges these hot men were creating in my own body. I focused on Hank because he seemed to respond to the promptings the most. I was also beginning to pick up distant stirrings from Toby – something that made the show even better. “Just think how nice it would to be kissing that mouth, Hank,” I said – picturing it in my mind. “Might I suggest you try.” “Come here, babe,” Hank said with heaving breaths and then he locked his fingers in Toby’s thick hair and pulled the smaller man’s head toward his face. I could tell Toby paused briefly, allowing the lustful haze to lift for a few seconds and question what was happening. Hank didn’t want the other guy to wait for very long. The big man wanted to taste Toby’s mouth – that’s all he was focused on, now. He didn’t even miss the wonderful sucking of his huge pec. He smeared his mouth against the now waiting mouth of his friend – roughly, forcibly, making it clear that it was a big man’s kiss. Hank’s tongue attacked. His lips pressed in. He inhaled. And he moaned. There had never been foreplay made in any porn movie better than this. Hank dominated the smaller muscle man and kissed like he was trying to extract Toby’s soul through his mouth. Toby’s fingers had re-found the big nubs on Hank’s chest and were going to town on them, again. Hank’s big hands were all over Toby’s body – one pulling the other guy’s head in even harder into the kiss and the other caressing the chiseled back of the gorgeous man – getting dangerously low with each caress. “Lunch is served,” Alfred announced, near the doorway to inside. Those three words broke the mood and whatever influence I had been enjoying over the boys, but I didn’t mind. I knew we’d be able to return to where we had left off after lunch. Even with the mood ruined, the two young men continued to kiss for a few seconds more. I watched closely to see what would happen as my suggestion wore off. Toby was the first to stop, looking at his friend with wide eyes as Hank continued to press into his face with a kiss. Toby pulled back quickly, realizing that his fingers were tugging on Hank’s nipples – so he jerked them away, too. “What the fuck, Hank?” Toby said, scooting away on the sofa. “I don’t know, Toby,” Hank said, looking a little confused, but satisfied, too. “It was just a little snogging. Don’t know why we did it, but I don’t really care either. You’re a great kisser, dude. A really great kisser.” “That’s not the point, man.” Toby continued. “Hey, I won’t tell anyone if you don’t tell anyone,” Hank said, winking at his friend and then turning to me. “Sorry about that Sax-on-the-beach – I was just really horny and needed to see why all the girls say Toby is a great kisser.” “Oh, don’t worry about me, fellas,” I said, “I was enjoying myself, too. But come, lunch is served. Might I suggest we move to the table over there beneath the umbrellas and have some food and drink?” “I am hungry,” Toby said, standing – his perfectly, symmetrical muscles glistening a little from the sweat caused by his and Hank’s make out session. “I could eat a fucking horse,” Hank said, and he stood - his full six feet ten inches in all its glory, dressed only in golden posers. I had forgotten just how huge the big man was. Because he was constantly around his muscly friend, Toby, his full height and bulk was not always apparent. But as he and I walked side-by-side to the table I felt like some kind of small wind-up doll moving in his shadow. My oversized patio furniture looked small when he was in it. I marveled at the idea that a man so large could navigate through the regular world so easily. I’m sure he found doorways too low, spaces to confining, and many things infinitely too small. That idea thrilled me and I was drawn to sit across from him so I could behold his enormity throughout the meal. Toby sat at one end of the table, obviously still unsure about what had caused Hank’s intense session of sucking face. But more importantly, it was clear he was concerned even more by his own involvement . . . and enjoyment . . . in the action. “Have you always been tall, Hank?” I asked as we began our meal and sipped our wine. “Yeah, I topped six-two in eighth grade and weighed about two-sixty. I dwarfed most of the teachers. It was kind of cool,” the big man answered. “He’s the main reason our high school football team won the state championship four years in a row,” Toby added – clearly proud of his good friend. “And how long have you two known each other?” I asked. “Since the beginning of fourth grade . . . that’s when I moved to our hometown,” Hank answered. “It must be nice – having a best friend for so long,” I said, smiling. “Yeah, it is,” Toby answered, smiling, too. “This guy knows me better than anyone,” Hank said, laughing. “He could get me into a lot of trouble if he ever told some of my secrets.” “And vice versa, dude,” Toby responded. “Might I suggest both of you share something that your friend doesn’t know,” I said with an ease that I hoped would help them feel even more comfortable in sharing. “I sometimes beat off watching myself pose on video or in the mirror,” Hank quickly confessed. “I sometimes beat off watching videos of you posing, too,” Toby quickly said, as well. Both men wouldn’t look at each other. There was something sexually electrifying in the air and no one wanted to disturb it. I, myself, could imagine jerking off a heavy one while watching the big man flex. His foundation was magnificent. I could see the pro competitor he would be in a few more years. A smile crept across Hank’s face as he processed what his friend had said. I realized, then, that it had never even crossed his mind that Toby might find his body hot. He turned to look at the smaller guy. “This can make you squirt, dude?” Hank asked as he flexed his right arm, making the biceps swell huge. “Yeah,” Toby responded softly and stared at the tensed biceps, “If I’m in the right mood.” “That’s fucking hot, bro,” Hank said in return – smiling even more. “It looks like we’re all through with our lunch,” I said and then added, “Might I suggest that we return to the sofa and have a little routine from Hank. I think we’d all love to see him pose.” “Yeah, I’d fucking love that. These posers make me look hot,” Hank said, bringing his arm down and immediately moving to the other area with a full glass of wine. He was tugging the waist band of his posers out, teasingly. “Something on the inside of me is really excited about posing for the two of you.” “I’m glad, Hank,” I said as Toby and I sat down on the sofa with our wine. “Might the outside freely show the same kind of excitement? No one would mind if that happened. We’re all big boys, here. You being the biggest . . . well, in relation to your body, that is. If you got turned on by all of this, we’d all understand.” My suggestion made it so and Hank’s substantial meat in the gold posers thickened and elongated as soon as the sentence was finished. It was like watching cartoon growth. The joy on Hank’s face matched the happiness below. I wondered if shooting hard so quickly made him a little light-headed. My mouth watered as the covered cock continued to grow – even when I thought it was fully hard. It seemed that Hank was a grower. I had a feeling that Toby was a grower and a shower – since the mammoth tool was already showing through the black posers – completely flaccid. I looked forward to suggesting he might be ‘more excited.’ “Fuck, Hank! You want to turn down that monster in your posers, dude,” Toby said as he couldn’t help but notice his friend’s throbbing hard-on. “Can’t help it man. It must be the wine. It must be the sun. Or maybe it’s because I’m about to do this for your two,” Hank said, with no apology, as he brought both of his arms up into a perfect double biceps pose. “Grrrrrrrr, look at all that beautiful hard meat, fellas.” I almost asked if he meant up above or down below, but seeing his monstrous arms ballooning into the air made my mouth drop open. The same response came from Toby, too. This thrilled Hank to no end. He flexed harder – veins popping out on his forehead and his cheeks turning red. It looked like his arms then swelled a few more inches thicker. The man’s muscles were breathtaking. I so wanted to play with my hardening cock, but willed my hand not to move to my crotch. I did not, however, want to put the same restrictions on my friend, Toby – my sofa mate. He was mesmerized by Hank’s massive arms, so I took advantage of the situation. “We’re all friends here, Toby,” I said. “Feel free to do whatever comes natural as you watch your big best friend, Hank, show off for you. He’s such a colossal beast, don’t you think? Let your body respond as it wants to.” “Yes, sir,” came the soft response as Toby continued to stare at the big biceps in front of us. “Might I suggest that you grab the opportunity to fully enjoy the show. We might let your own colossal beast give us a show, too,” I said, looking at the man’s black posers. Color drained from Toby’s face as his posers began to be stretched. I knew that all the blood in his body was pumping hard to a certain part of him- that had suddenly started to grow. I wondered in shocked awe at how the man could walk with the giant thing that had hung between his legs, but now I was in utter dismay as his enormous cock thickened. The head popped out from the waistband of his black posers and it looked as big as my fist. And, yet, the thing kept growing. It snaked up Toby’s muscled thigh like a boa constrictor inching up the trunk of a tree. Suddenly, I was aware of how thin and fragile my wrist looked compared to his dick. Even when I thought it had reached its maximum size, the thing kept getting bigger and thicker. Surely the kid would fall over forward if he stood up – the weight of that monster cock completely throwing off his balance. By now, the gigantic rod stuck straight up – the tip nestled in the gaping crevice at the bottom of Toby’s perfectly formed pecs. “Fucking hell, Toby, that thing is bigger than a telephone pole!” Hank exclaimed as he released his tensed fists, but kept his arms up beside his head. “I’ve never seen it hard! You make my cock look like a toothpick!” This was far from the truth, but I could see why Hank would feel inadequate. Toby’s mammoth pole looked inhuman – like it should be attached to a guy ten times the size of the guy who presently sported it. It’s when Toby’s quite muscular hand wrapped around . . . well, tried to wrap around . . . the thing that it’s true size was highlighted. Toby’s hand – the hand of a well-built man – looked tiny holding on to the telephone pole. When he started pumping the big thing, his hand looked even smaller. Hank watched Toby’s hand go up and down on the king dong. The big man was mesmerized in a way he hadn’t expected. The stroking of the huge cock made Hank want to do something equally as impressive, so he flexed his guns again. Toby’s gaze was glued to the monstrous mounds tensed in front of him. I could not decide where I wanted my focus to be – the enormous pecs and arms or the equally gigantic cock. It was a glorious problem to have. “That’s the fucking hottest thing I’ve ever seen, Toby – you sitting there pumping that big thing.” “Then you haven’t looked in a mirror recently, Hank, because those arms of yours are the hottest things I’ve ever seen.” “Might I suggest you come closer, Hank,” I said lightly – making it as if I wasn’t even there, only a voice in the wind. “Maybe you two would like to touch each other.” Hank’s legs moved without him bringing his arms down or taking his eyes away from Toby’s. Hank used his big leg to push the coffee table in front of Toby and I to the side. Luckily, our wine glasses were elsewhere. Toby spread his legs farther apart, but kept his hand moving up and down on his hard-as-hell cock. Hank knelt right in front of his friend – between his legs, his big body barely fitting. He was flexing so hard his fists were shaking a little and his knuckles were white. He leaned forward and Toby placed his free hand on top of Hank’s huge, tensed right biceps. I saw both men jerk a little from a sexual jolt when their skin met. Hank’s giant pecs rolled upward and Toby’s giant cock visually throbbed. “Might I suggest you tell me what Hank’s arm feels like, Toby,” I said, in almost a whisper. “Like I’m massaging concrete that’s had the sun’s heat pounding on it all afternoon.” “Wouldn’t you like to feel that huge cock between your big pecs, Hank? Might I suggest you make your friend feel good by squeezing his hardness between your hardness.” “Aw hell, that would be the best. How about it, Toby - you want to fuck my massive chest.” The slit of Toby’s dickhead opened up and a big gob of thick white semen seeped out and that was the only answer needed. Hank kept the biceps flexed that still had Toby’s hand rubbing all over it. At the same time, he took his other hand and reached down to pull his mammoth left pec away from the other – only to realize he’d have to pull further as Toby’s free hand steered his mighty cock between the mounds of beef. The big man released his hold and pec meat instantly engulfed Toby’s big rod. Hank’s pecs were the only things that could actually make Toby’s cock look regular. Instantly, Hank tensed his chest and Toby let out a long moan. Then, the smaller man started to buck his hips up and down, humping his cock in the tight crevice of the humongous pecs before him. And he still kept his hand on Hank’s flexed biceps. “Fuck my meaty pecs, man. Yeah, that feels so good.” “Shit, Hank, how can you squeeze your chest so hard? I’m not going to last long, bud, if you don’t lessen your pec grip just a little.” I felt I had died and gone to muscle worship heaven. Had there ever been a couple made for each other more than these two? Seeing that huge cock surrounded by hard bulging muscle was the thing that finally made me rub my own crotch. There was no way that I could see these two muscled behemoths pleasing each other in this way and not get turned on. I also pictured Alfred, my chef, my gardener, my chauffeur, my security guard, and my pool boy all gathered around the television where the security camera feed was delivered – with their own dicks in their hands - all getting off to the sight before them. I knew the security room was going to smell like a bathhouse for days. “Hank . . . uh . . . . man . . . ungh . . . you gotta . . . quit . . . oh shit . . . squeezing so…” I looked up and saw that Hank was now looking into the eyes of his best friend. I saw a determined look in his gaze and knew he wanted one thing and one thing only. He wanted Toby’s big cock to explode. Watching the thick big head of that cock poking out from between massive pecs as Toby forced his crotch forward and then pulled it back was almost too much for all of us. It was clear, however that Hank’s chest was in control of the entire situation. “Come on buddy, let that big thing blow. Cover my massive pecs with your hot spunk,” Hank growled as he spoke. “Wanna milk you dry, man.” “Quit . . . squee-zing . . . ungh . . . ungh . . . stop . . . Hank, please . . . I can’t . . . hold . . . it . . . in . . . please…” It was like watching a movie you’ve seen a hundred times and knew the ending by heart. It was clear that Toby’ hard cock was being smashed by even harder mounds of muscle. His cockhead was now a deep purple. It was clear the poor kid would not be able to hold out any longer. I felt like I should get an umbrella – for the ejaculation was going to be momentous. We all knew what was coming – so to speak. “I’m . . . sorry . . . Hank . . . I’m going to . . . so sorry, man . . . ungh . . . ungh . . . unggggghhhhhhh!” To say that Hank’s chin, neck, and chest got sprayed would be an understatement. It was more like he got hosed down. Toby’s giant cock could obviously store up more juice and propel it more forcibly than that of a normal man. Hot cum shot up into the air and rained down – splattering loudly against Hank’s chest. And still the big man’s tits squeezed. And still the large cock exploded. It was like a gif on constant repeat – a never ending fountain of Toby’s milk. I was worn out just watching the boy have an orgasm. There was no telling how spent he felt at the end of his eruption. “Fuck, that was incredible, Toby. It’s like you could keep every sperm bank in the world fully supplied forever. I’ve never seen someone spew like that,” Toby said, pulling his chest back and watching the enormous dick flop out from between his pecs. The towering cock was still hard and stayed poking up into the air. All three of us stared at it - waving back and forth a little like a flagpole in the wind. I looked down and saw that Hank’s posers were sopping wet – he had clearly joined in with Toby’s explosion. The big man obviously could not hold out watching his best friend release a supersized load. I admired the mammoth wall of muscle that was the young man’s body. It was even more spectacular covered in the drying cum of the beautiful guy across from him. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” said Toby, his gaze staring into Hank’s eyes. “Yeah? That’s kind of funny, Tobster, because I’ve sat in my room many-a-night yanking myself to a big finale and wishing it had been your hand, mouth, or ass making me explode,” Hank said in response. It suddenly hit me that I had not suggested either statement. I hadn’t even subconsciously thought the words that were being shared. I was a little taken aback by what was happening in front of me. Hank leaned back towards Toby and slid his big hands under the other man’s ass. Toby wrapped his legs around his big friend. Hank stood up, taking the smaller muscleman into the air with him. “How about we take a little dip - to do a little clean up?” Hank asked as he turned and walked down the stairs into the cool water of the pool. I watched in astonishment as the two big men kept moving until they stood with water at chest level. Still supported by Hank’s arms, Toby splashed water onto the big pecs, neck, and massive arms of his friend – washing off all the dried spunk. The two men never took their eyes away from each other. Once they both sparkled in the sunlight because of water droplets, Toby brought his face to Hank’s and they began to kiss passionately. I no longer existed to either of them. I no longer had to suggest anything. I simply watched. It was then that it occurred to me . . . I might suggest that they grow…
  19. This is the beginning of a story, that’s taken quite a bit of work. It’s one of the first I’ve written, so it may have a lot of quirk. It seems I write pretentiously, so I could look like a burke. What you’re about to read is my tale. Of a muscle-obsessed man on his trail. With twists and turns beyond the pale. After all these words, I hope you enjoy. Or else another’s work you’ll have to deploy. Chapter 1- The Fantasy The towering pillars of stone stood clustered around the brand centre of York. They began as traditional buildings made over the centuries in the old capital, then built to the sky in increasing style, at the cost of great pain and price. At the base of these looming towers, the square of the city, winding rivers of shoppers and socialites snaked through every street and corner. Every man, woman, and child were dressed in the latest fashion of the day with hair pushed and shoved and washed and blown and dried and arranged into a meticulous style. The gentlemen in their pressed suits, the ladies in their vibrant dresses (as featured in every magazine), and the children barely looked like children at all in clothes strikingly like the adults that lead them. However, the thing that most united them was their bodies; stick-arms protruding from thin shoulders sat on legs that looked unable to support anything. Even the gentlemen fit this trend, with even the thinnest of suits hanging from their limbs, and soft facial features below pretty-boy hair styles. Every cobble they walked on was perfectly in place, the gilded statues were polished to a shine and each branch of the trees that decorated the streets had been expertly pruned, as anything less would have been an insult. In one of the highest rooms in one of the most mountainous towers sat one of these people; skinny as a pencil with hair freshly cut that day and what used to be a neatly pressed suit before he'd collapsed onto the wide bed. Richard had no use for a bed this wide, he'd never shared it with a soul, and the art around his walls was miles away from what he liked, but he imagined the fuss if he didn't need to keep up appearances. He was just lying there in the place he often spent time but could never be found, his fantasy. Miles away from this place were the brownfields and greenfields; in these far-away lands were the people of Richard's dreams. He saw them when driving through the greenfields with his parents, he could barely take his eyes off them while his parents chuckled and scoffed. The workers in the fields toiled for hours, and in the summer months the men wore only their boots and shorts to counteract the heat. Their hair was shaggy and unkept, what clothes they had on were torn, and their skin was tanned from days in the elements. But what intrigued Richard was the bodies of the male workers; the countless hours of work left the marks that the people in the upper classes tried so hard to avoid. Their arms bulged out with biceps that rose like the hills of the Yorkshire countryside around them, with veins popping from their forearms as they grasped their mighty farming tools. Their shoulders seemed broad enough to carry the most impressive boulders that decorated this land, and they were the perfect headers to the winding rows of back muscles that shifted and dived as the workers tilled or planted. Their chests ballooned out with imposing pectorals that seemed to challenge the boulders themselves, looking just as large and solid from the car window. Their cores were not targeted by their labour, yet some still had grown perfect columns of muscles, Richard often counted them and couldn't help but smile with glee when he saw sets of six or eight. The trunks of the trees in the distance appeared to be twigs compared to their thighs, with deep valleys between muscles that could be seen on the men brave or warm enough to wear the shortest of shorts. There was a noticeable range of body hair among them, from enough fur to look like one of the animals of the woods, to perfectly smooth chests that accentuated every muscle and masculine contour. Even their faces were enchanting, many with square jaws like bricks that were decorated by stubble, while others had full beards that would have shocked those of high society to their cores. In Richard's mind, they were the most beautiful jewels of the dales, putting the emerald hills, opalite skies, and fields of crops that were spun from gold to shame. Richard's fantasy was to be just like them; he dreamt of putting down his tools and pushing the hair from his eyes while he shielded himself from the sun with a powerful arm so large it cast a shadow over his face. His perfect body would glow as the sunlight hit the sweat he'd made from his honest work. He would then take a cloth from his pocket to dry himself, making sure to reach the gaps between his washboard of core muscles and between his mountainous pectorals. He would breathe a sigh of relief as he was free of the expectations and rules on who he could be that so plagued him when he was at the top of the social ladder. Richard had heard stories of the open nature of the greenfields and brownfields. How sex was not just for making more people, but often an activity of raw sexual attraction between whoever lusted after each other. Muscle and strength were valued here, with the most powerful adonises having first pick of the lot, but almost everyone could find a willing partner if they looked. This information was passed to him through splutters of pure disgust and mockery, but it was heaven to Richard. He dreamt of worshipping the imposing muscles of another man, a body so large it was greater than any he would have himself, running his fingers over every inch and trying but failing to squeeze the muscles that filled his hands. He even pictured receiving this perfect man's throbbing erection as it filled him; it felt so wrong yet so good at the same time. A sudden knock at the door awoke Richard. Then, in an instant, his fantasy had faced once again, but he was happy in the knowledge it would return. As he scrambled to pull his tie back up and buckle his belt, he felt crushing shame at the body that was so desired in his world. As he walked to open the door, the opulence that surrounded him was only a reminder of how far he was from his dream. However, as he pulled the door open on that perfectly average evening, it was the first step in his journey to make the impossible fantasy a reality. But, if you wish to know what (or rather who) stood behind this door, you must wait until the next instalment of The Adonis of York, coming in due course.
  20. Absman420


    “Hey everybody, this is Glenn!” “And this is Ben!” “We’re the Fortunato Brothers! And you’re watching another episode of ‘Can You Believe They Bought That Shit?’” TITLE -- THEME MUSIC “In this episode, we’re nosing in on the Storage Auction scene!” “Yeah, my brother and I took some of the profits we’ve made from our podcast this season and -- as usual -- WE BOUGHT SOME SHIT!” “What’d we get this time, Ben?” “That’s a good question, Glenn! The truth is -- I don’t know! Like everybody in the Storage Auction biz, we bought blind!” (EXTERIOR SHOT: Drone -- camera pans across the abandoned “ETERNAL STORAGE” building. There are faded egyptian pyramids painted on the storefront, symbolizing eternity -- subtly informing the viewer that they’ll own their junk forever. We can see the cracked asphalt of the old parking lot and the dilapidated condition of the building. Clearly, from the view, we’re in the middle of nowhere.) BEN (in VO): The Eternal Storage facility went out of business about a decade ago, but they never emptied it. Scheduled for demolition, “Eternal” decided to auction off the unclaimed lots, which these sorts of companies do regularly -- it’s even easier now, thanks to COVID. We bought our booty online. (INTERIOR SHOT: Hallway. Rows of storage units, resembling garage doors, run the dusty, broken down hallway. Some are open and empty, several are locked shut. The electric hall lights work by luck alone, creating a dim, prison-like atmosphere. The Buy-It Brothers are “Live” again. Glenn steps into frame.) “But you know us,” Glenn says, smiling his jowly, toothy grin at the camera. “We don’t ever buy a little shit when a lot of shit’s available!” Ben pops in frame, interrupting. “So we bought THREE of these things!” “Well, the fact is we bought an entire lot, which includes these three units, right here next to each other!” “Who knows what wonders we’ll find?” “No one till we open it. So, what do you say? Which one you wanna start with?” “Let’s start with Door Number One!” Ben says, pulling out a tagged key. As he unlocks an ancient, massive padlock that secures a chain to keep the metal “garage door” in place, his brother hogs the camera. “The fun of this style of ‘Blind Buying’ has spawned quite a few tv shows. Who knows what will be inside? Will it have value, or is it just old furniture and clothes? Is it King Tut’s tomb or Al Capone’s vault? If my brother can ever get the lock off, we’ll find out!” Smiling, Ben says, “This shit’s old!” “So’s your Momma!” Ben snorts, turning the key with great effort. “She’s your Momma, too,” he says, as the lock snaps open with a lethargic clack. “And you know she watches this show.” Ben pulls the chain out of the grating and the two of them squat down to open the sliding door. They couldn’t be less like each other, physically -- Glenn is built like a Snowman and Ben like a String Bean -- although you can see they’re related by face. And sense of humor. The hallway echoes with the sound of scraping, stubborn metal-on-metal force, as if the doorway didn’t fit correctly into its runners, as if it had been pounded out of shape. They get it up almost two feet before it won’t budge another inch. Ben, his skinny bod already used up, sighs loudly and pants. “Okay, maybe Tut’s tomb was a little easier! Want to try one of the others first?” Glenn is kneeling down, shining his flashlight into the darkness of the storage space. “No,” he says. “I can fit under this -- it doesn’t look like it’s jammed full of stuff -- lemme find the light.” “Go, Indy!” Ben mocks as Glenn slides (barely) under the stuck door. Ben gives a side-eye to the camera and whispers, “Indiana Jones was in better shape than my brother…” He harrumphs sarcastically, indicating his lean frame. “Usually, I’m the one squeezing into tight spaces, but my brother likes being the showman when the camera’s on. What’s going on in there?” he calls. “Hold on -- looking for a light. This is crazy!” “What?” Suddenly, the interior light comes on, flooding the space and leaking through the jammed metal door. “Holy crap! Get in here, Ben -- bring the camera!” (INTERIOR SHOT: Storage Unit One, about the size of a standard one-car garage, unpainted cinder-block walls with an overhead neon light. The space is full of gym equipment, not just stored willy-nilly, but set-up as if to be functional, as if someone worked out here. There’s a cable-crossover on the far end, before the mirrored wall. A squat rack on one side, a series of benches and dumbbells on the other. Dusty and cobwebbed, it hasn’t seen use in a while -- but it once did. Lots of use from its condition.) “Look at this!” Glenn says to the camera, smiling broadly. “This is someone’s gym!” Ben looks around. “Maybe some gym went out of business or something…” “No. This looks like someone used it. I mean, this stuff is set up, not stored.” He pulls a pair of 20-pound dumbbells from the rack and struggles to do some bicep curls. “Look at me,” Glenn laughs. “I’m Ah-nold!” He puts the dumbbells back on the rack with a clang that echoes through the space. His pear-shaped body couldn’t possibly look less like Schwarzenegger. Weird. “This is weird,” says Ben. “I know,” laughs Glenn. “Can You Believe We Bought That Shit?” Even Ben laughs at this. “Another mystery for the Buy-It Brothers!” he says back, smiling. “Hey, look back here! There’s a door to the next room -- we won’t have to try and open the front slider!” “Thank God,” Ben says, pulling the heavy wad of keys, chains, and rings from the pocket of his cargo shorts and dropping them on the flat bench. Behind and to the side of the cable crossover -- almost hidden to the eye -- there’s a standard gray industrial door that leads to the next unit. The knob has a keyhole, but as Glenn grabs it, the door breaks off its hinges and falls to the side, as if someone had forced their way through it and tried to put it back in place so no one would notice. “Fine construction,” Glenn jokes. “No wonder they’ve condemned this building.” “This is all very weird.” Glenn pulls the flashlight from out of his back pocket. “At least I know where the light switches are,” he says, entering the dark room. “Be careful,” Ben calls, shooting a nervous glance at the camera. He sees the light come on in the next room, but when he doesn’t hear anything more from his brother, he steps toward the door. “Glenn…?” His brother’s voice isn’t scared, exactly, but he certainly sounds concerned. “Ben,” he says, “bring the camera.” (INTERIOR SHOT: Interior of Unit Two. Ben is clumsy, so the camera is jerky as the stand is reset. This room is identical to the other in terms of construction (and lack of color), but it has a different function -- this is living quarters. At one end of the storage unit, along the wall is a simple cot with a nightstand, a lamp, and a small dresser -- a dull, circular floor rug breaks up the cement. On the other wall, a cheap recliner aimed at a crude, old-fashioned entertainment center -- a TV, a VCR and several dozen VHS tapes. Along the back end of the unit, the opposite end, a seatless toilet, a sink, and a showerhead -- there’s a centered floor drain beneath it.) Taking it all in, Ben says, “What the fuck?” Same tone from Glenn. “Can you believe we bought this shit?” “Glenn, what’s goin’ on? Do you think… someone LIVED here?” “Or was KEPT here.” There’s an uncomfortable silence, unusual between these two. To distract himself, Glenn goes to the entertainment center and picks up some of the VHS tapes. He snorts. “What?” asks Ben, turning the camera to catch Glenn. Glenn holds up the tapes to the camera. “It’s all gay porn,” he says. “And a few bodybuilding competitions.” Even Ben sighs and jokes, “Can you believe we bought that shit?” He chuckles. “Do you think any of this has any value at all?” Glenn shrugs, indicating the tapes. “They’re vintage,” he says. “And look,” he continues, turning the TV on, “TV still works!” The TV comes to life with gay porn, two muscular men in the depths of fucking. Crude and savage, the Buy-It Brothers both turn away. “Oh, Geez… turn it off, man!” But it won’t turn off -- Glenn hits the power button any number of times, but the TV keeps on keeping on. “It won’t turn off,” he says. “Looks like it’s gay porn to infinity!” Ben side-eyes the camera. “Unplug it,” he says, which Glenn acknowledges and pulls the plug from the wall -- the TV stops, mercifully. They’re spooked enough. Glenn holds up his hands like he’s won a race. “Ta-dah!” he sings. “Anything in the dresser?” he asks, nodding toward the piece. Ben seems afraid to look, but finally opens the top drawer, which he then immediately closes. “What?” Ben swallows dramatically. “Jockstraps and thongs,” he says. He opens the second drawer. “Underwear and posers,” he says, opening the third. “Spandex shorts and muscle shirts.” He grimly nods. “I am ready to cut our losses and not look in Unit Three.” “Oh, we’re so looking in Unit Three,” Glenn says, crossing to where the doorway would be. Instead, there’s literally a hole in the wall, as if someone had torn the cinderblocks away and made a doorway. Scraps of cement pieces and piles of broken cinderblocks still litter the floor. Someone had clearly meant to fix the damage -- there are a couple of loose bags of cement mix amid the rubble -- but clearly nothing had been done, just dust and destruction with a layer of time. “I mean, obviously, someone wanted in there very badly.” “Where the hell is the door?” asks Ben, moving the camera’s tripod to a new location. “What is going on around here?” “Well, it’s pretty full in here,” Glenn says from the doorway. “But I can slide down the wall and get the lights okay.” Again, after a couple of seconds, the lights come on, though this bulb isn’t quite as good, blinking and fizzing as Ben, carrying the camera, enters. (INTERIOR SHOT: Unit Three. A slightly smaller room than the other two -- maybe half the width -- filled with over a dozen wooden pallets loaded with beverage cases, wrapped tightly in heavy industrial plastic. Some are haphazardly stacked on top of others -- each pallet has six layers of product. They are dusty, resembling forgotten furniture after a hasty move or dinosaur carcasses after a meteor shower.) Ben looks into the camera. “The mystery deepens,” he says. Glenn pulls his knife from the Leatherman attached to his belt and cuts into the heavy plastic wrapping on one of the pallets. “Let’s see what they were hoarding,” he says, pulling out a plastic sports drink bottle, gray with red and gold lettering. “CYCLE ONE,” he reads, shrugging. “You ever heard of it?” “No.” Ben pulls out his phone instinctively to search it, but there’s no coverage inside. “Fucking cinderblocks,” he mumbles. Meanwhile, Glenn cracks open the plastic bottle and chugs it on down. “Glenn!” Ben hollers when he looks up. “What are you doing?” “What?” Glenn says, tossing the empty bottle away. “It’s just a sports drink! I didn’t see an expiration on it -- it was good!” He turns to the camera and adds, “Sadly, it hasn’t fermented.” “I can’t believe you just drank that!” Ben protests. “You don’t know anything about it!” “Oh, for the love of God, Ben! Give it up!” Ben shakes it off. “I’m sorry, bro,” he says. “This whole place has got me a little spooked, is all. This is very weird.” Glenn shrugs dramatically. “What? Some guy who used to own a gym loses it all and instead of being homeless and on the streets…” “...he chooses to live in a storage facility?” Ben finishes. “With his collection of porn, thongs, and sports drinks? No, that doesn’t sound weird at all.” Glenn snorts and begins counting the pallets. “Whatever,” he says. “Ready, math guy?” Ben opens his calculator app. “Ready!” he says. Glenn counts. “Each pallet has ten cases per layer and each is six layers high.” “Sixty cases!” Ben announces. “I didn’t even need the calculator for that!” Glenn laughs. “Twenty-four bottles per case means…?” “Fourteen-hundred forty bottles per pallet.” He counts quickly again. “Twenty pallets…?” “Means we own a shit-ton of this stuff.” Glenn smiles toward the camera. “I love math,” he says. “What are we gonna do with twenty-eight thousand, eight-hundred bottles of old sports drink?” “Twenty-eight thousand, seven ninety-nine,” Glenn chuckles, tossing his empty bottle dramatically over his shoulder, where it clunks emptilly around in the cinderblock space. “That’s gonna eat into our profit margins,” Ben says, shaking his head, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “Ben, even if we sell it for a buck a bottle, we still make a shit-ton more than we spent. Plus the gym equipment…” “...and the vintage porn.” Glenn smiles. “And the vintage porn -- we’ll still come out ahead. That it happens to be weird gives us a story to tell, doesn’t it? That’s why we have this camera… and the show…” They both turn to the camera and smile. “Can You Believe We Bought This Shit?” Ben asks dryly. “Okay,” Glenn says, taking charge like he usually does, “we’ll need the Pallet Jack -- we didn’t bring that, did we? -- but we have room in the Hauler to fit all this stuff.” As he talks, he steps back into the middle unit-- the living area -- Ben follows dutifully, taking the camera along. “I doubt we’re gonna want to keep much of this stuff -- I guess the TV works tho, right? And who knows? Maybe there IS a market for vintage porn.” He laughs and walks into the first unit, the one with the gym equipment. “I don’t know how we’re gonna get this stuff outta here -- maybe the guys who buy it can haul it. I don’t know…” Suddenly, he jumps up and grabs the pull-up bar mounted on the top of the cable crossover. Ben is suddenly watching his middle-aged, rugby-thick, out-of-shape brother doing pull-ups -- exercising! “What are you doing?” Ben asks, already laughing. “Pull-ups!” Glenn says breathlessly as he struggles to do a third. He drops heavily onto his feet. “We own a gym now,” he says to his skinny-fat brother. “The Fortunato Brothers Fitness Center! Maybe it’s a sign we should get these sad-ass bods back in shape?” Ben laughs. “You feelin’ okay?” “I feel great!” Glenn says. “Seriously, I feel fucking GREAT! Ever since I had that…” He stops suddenly and looks away, toward the third unit. A devilish smile crosses his face and he exits with purpose back into the other rooms. “Glenn, what are you doing? GLENN!” Ben gives a look toward the camera and is about to go after his brother when Glenn reappears in the broken doorway, holding several bottles of CYCLE ONE. “This shit…” he starts to say. Ben immediately protests, holding his hands up. “Our profit margin!” Glenn tosses a bottle with an easy lob to his brother, but Ben -- never an athlete -- bobbles and drops it. The bottle rolls under the metal gate they’d opened into the hallway beyond. “There goes our profit margin,” Glenn jokes, opening another bottle. As he speaks, he gestures with it. “Why don’t you go grab that bottle? I should’ve known better than to toss it to you.” He slugs down half his new bottle in one gulp, easily. Ben’s tone is serious. “I think you should ease up on that stuff,” he says, making his way toward the metal gate. “You don’t know what’s in it.” “It’s a sports drink.” Glenn waves him off. “It’s just sugar water.” He attempts another set of pull-ups as Ben squats down to go under the door. He’s got a little over two-feet of clearance but he’s reluctant to press his chest to the floor, all that dust and dirt he’d been able to ignore before, when the mystery had captivated him. Now there’s less enthusiasm to follow the rules -- like the game OPERATION, where you shouldn’t touch the sides… Ben’s shoulder whaps the bottom of the metal grate as he rises in the hallway. There is a grinding, loud, metallic shriek and the grate slams solidly onto the cement floor. “Oh, shit,” Ben mumbles. He hears Glenn from inside, slightly muffled. “What happened?” “I must’ve jostled it with my shoulder,” Ben says to the door, speaking a little more loudly than usual, to be heard through the closed door. “That’s why I didn’t make the Limbo Team.” No laugh. Damn. “Okay, let’s heft it back up again!” Ben grabs the handles on his side -- and he can hear Glenn trying to pull the chain on his -- but the door doesn’t budge. “Fuck -- AGAIN!” They try -- even though Ben worries about his back, he throws himself into it -- and fails. The door stays closed. “Fuck,” Ben chants. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” “Well, let’s try one of the other doors,” Glenn suggests from inside. “You have the keys, right?” Ben reaches down to his pockets -- empty? Where…? Oh, shit! He’d taken the keys out of his pocket and put them on the bench -- inside the unit! “Oh, shit!” “What?” “They’re in there!” Ben shouted, slapping the metal door. “They’re in THERE! I took them out of my pocket when I was fumbling with all the camera equipment! They’re on the bench.” He doesn’t hear Glenn’s sighing exhale, but he’s certain that’s what’s happening -- his brother is collecting his wits -- it’s what he always does when he’s angry. “Okay,” Glenn says through the grate. “Is the crowbar in the truck?” “I don’t know,” Ben answers. “I’ll have to check. I don’t think so. I think we took it out when we were emptying from that last job.” “It’s okay,” Glenn says. “We’re gonna need the Pallet Jack anyway. Okay, you head to the Workshop and get the crowbar, the Pallet Jack, any kind of hack saw we might have if we gotta cut those chains…” “Glenn, the Workshop is almost a hundred miles away!” “Well, we don’t have much choice -- unless you’re strong enough to tear through these metal grates with your bare hands, we’re gonna need tools. And the tools are in the Workshop…” “Which is a hundred miles away!” Glenn laughs. “Well, I’m not going anywhere! So you might as well get to it… unless you don’t have the truck keys?” “They’re in the truck.” He can hear Glenn sigh. “You just leave keys everywhere…” Ben doesn’t laugh. “You’re hysterical,” he says. “Look, Glenn, I feel bad enough…” “It’s not a big deal,” his brother says through the metal grate. “It’s just a couple hours. I have plenty to do -- I have games on my phone and shit -- don’t worry. Hey, I can always work out and watch vintage porn, right?” That his brother, trapped because of Ben’s own foolishness, would work so hard to make jokes shows Ben how much Glenn cares. Ben can’t help but smile. “Yeah, I guess,” he says. “I’m sorry, Glenn.” “It’s just gonna be a couple hours -- and we’ll get a good story out of it. Don’t worry, Ben, it’s all good. Now go get the tools -- I’m done talking through a garage door. Frankly, I feel like working out.” “Don’t drink any more of that shit!” “Too late!” For some reason, as much as anything else, that lights a fire in Ben’s pants. He can’t shake his uneasy feeling about that stupid sports drink -- he’s sure he’s heard of it before. On the floor against the far wall sits the bottle he’d come out here for -- without much consideration, he picks it up off the floor and puts it in the side pocket of his cargo shorts (where the keys had been). Ben hurries down the stairs and exits the building -- this time smart enough to block the door with a cinderblock, so it won’t lock by accident behind him. The keys are in the truck -- thank God for small favors! -- but the crowbar is not. There’s not a helpful tool in the bed. (They’d taken the toolbox out to create room for all the loot they were gonna haul from this Buy-It score!) Just one stupid thing after the next -- and here they are now, Glenn locked in a unit with vintage porn! So it would be REALLY stupid if something happened to me now, Ben thinks, driving a little too old-lady like. But it’s better than getting pulled over, or having an accident, or any of the other myriad horror stories he imagines happening as he drives the nearly hundred miles to their Workshop while his brother is trapped. “I just got here!” he texts when he arrives at the Workshop, nearly two hours later -- the text isn’t delivered. He tries to shrug it off, shutting the door of the truck -- the one shrink-wrapped with their Buy-It Brothers logo -- and enters their warehouse (their “Workshop”) -- the one sporting that same logo over cartoon-versions of he and Glenn. (Ben thought they looked a little too much like Laurel and Hardy, but no one knew that reference anymore.) With haste, he gathers the things he’ll need, the crowbar, the hacksaw -- he has to locate the Pallet Jack. He’s wasting so much time on it, he considers leaving it behind. Fortunately, just as he’s thinking that, he trips over it. (It’s mostly hidden beneath a hastily discarded tarp.) It takes some little effort to lift it up into the bed of the truck -- lifting stuff is more his brother’s kind of thing -- but he finally does it, breathing heavily as he rolls the jack deeper into the bed near the cab and straps it in. He’s sweating a little -- and thirsty. Without realizing it, his hand touches the bottle still stashed in his pocket. The CYCLE ONE. He can’t resist. Though he knows his priority is getting back and rescuing his brother, Ben takes a moment to fire up his desktop and do some internet snooping, to satisfy his curiosity (or his paranoia). Cycle One -- there it is -- a sports drink that was all the rage twenty years ago. Internet rumors claim it was the real deal, adding insane amounts of masculine muscle and power, but there were side effects: dangerously increased libido, loss of sexual inhibition, loss of individuality. Crazy internet bullshit -- still, there are dozens of flexing testimonials, young men eager to show off their “transformations.” All of them looking a tiny bit… zealous, perhaps? Another article links Cycle One to a Justice Club Super-Villain, a hyper-muscled bodybuilder by the punny name of King Rex. The pic that accompanies this article shows an impossibly muscled man with a beard transforming a kneeling Superion, the Earth’s most powerful superhero, and turning him into Rex’s worshipful gay slave. The article claims the “secret ingredient” in Cycle One is King Rex’s magical ejaculate. A deeper dive: coincidently, upon the disappearance of this King Rex into the Multiverse, supplies of Cycle One became limited overnight -- and precious. Several would-be cults formed around the protection -- and distribution -- of this suddenly valuable resource. People went to great lengths to horde the stuff -- vaults, fallout shelters, armed-guards at storage units… Ben surfaces from his rabbit hole with the realization of what he and his brother have stumbled upon. In this instance, knowledge hasn’t seemed to give him any power at all -- other than to realize there’s danger, which he’s already suspected. Thanks, knowledge. Hurriedly, Ben gets back to the truck -- leaving the bottle of Cycle One on his desk -- realizing he’s wasted almost twenty minutes online, and heads the ninety-some-odd miles back to the storage units. He wants to floor it and speed the entire way, but he fears getting pulled over, or getting in an accident, or any of the other myriad nightmares that would end with his brother being forever trapped. “Almost there,” he texts at a red light -- the text isn’t delivered. Damn cinder-blocks -- they give little hope. He leaves the main road for the access road, the access road for the side road, the side road for the private drive, until finally, the abandoned ETERNAL STORAGE building comes into view, across the cracked and weed-filled parking lot. Apparently, this is all to be torn down to create an Amazon Warehouse. The Amazons replace the Eternals -- sounds like a bad superhero movie -- Ben can’t help but chuckle, despite the situation. A nerd at heart. He parks next to the door he’d left jammed open with the cinderblock and hurries back inside, grabbing the crowbar out of the truck bed on his way. He bounds up the stairs to the second floor -- as fast as his skinny, awkward body can “bound” anyway -- less like a gazelle and more like a clumsy giraffe with a few extra knees -- and lopes down the hall to their lot. It’s been just a little over five-and-a-half hours, and his brother wasn’t in immediate danger -- (he certainly wasn’t gonna go thirsty) -- still, Ben is worried. From halfway down the hall he can hear it. Right up next to the stuck door it’s impossible to miss: clanging weights, grunts and groans -- his brother is working out! “Glenn?” he calls, slapping the metal door. “Glenn, you OK?” “Ben?” he hears, then the thud of a barbell being dropped. The voice is closer to the door. “You’re back already? I still gotta do deadlifts.” “You’re hysterical,” Ben says, smiling with relief -- his brother isn’t dead. “Are you OK?” He can hear Glenn’s laughter. “WAY better than OK. Bro, this stuff is AMAZING, this CYCLE ONE shit! We’ve struck gold!” “Glenn…” “A buck a bottle? Fuck that. A THOUSAND bucks a bottle! For this…? Hell yeah, they’ll pay it.” “Glenn, I’ve been doing some research on it, the Cycle One, and…” “I don’t care what the Internet says right now, Bro! Let’s just get this fucking door open.” “Um… Okay, I have the crowbar!” “Great! Let’s see if you can get the bottom up a little bit.” Ben jams the crowbar beneath the door -- he’s expecting resistance, but the flat end of the bar simply slides under. Lifting the curled end, Ben slides a piece of broken cinder block beneath to act as a fulcrum. When he attempts to raise the door, the metal dents, lifting a small section up about an inch. When Ben removes the crowbar, he sees his brother stick his fat fingers through the opening from the other side. “I’m almost free!” Glenn says and laughs. Then, he says, “Hey!” like he’s had an idea. “Make another one of those dents about two feet to your left. I got an idea!” Ben shrugs -- “Okay…” -- and slides to his left. Again, the crowbar easily goes under the metal lip. Ben uses the same piece of cinder block and creates another hand-sized dent in the base of the sliding door -- the screech of the metal is almost uncomfortable. Glenn is saying, “Perfect… perfect,” from the other side of the door. “Okay, let’s give it a try!” “What?” “Let’s try to lift it! Grab the handle out there!” “Glenn, we can’t lift this…” “I told you -- I’m fresh! I haven’t done deadlifts, yet.” Bending over rather than squatting, Ben grabs the handle in the center of the roll-up metal door. He’s indulging his brother -- there’s no way they’re moving this door -- so he doesn’t give it his all. So he’s surprised when, on his brother’s count of “Three!” the door actually jerks up a foot or so -- Ben nearly loses his balance. “That’s better,” says Ben’s brother. “I can get a better grip on it now. Hold on a sec…” Ben can hear the sounds of drinking from inside and the clink clunk of an empty plastic bottle as it’s casually tossed away. He burps. “Okay,” he says, again gripping the base of the metal -- Ben can see his sneakers beneath the door. “Let’s do this. Grab on!” Ben grabs the door handle a little more seriously this time, squatting opposite his brother. “One. Two… THREE!” They both throw energy into the movement, but the door doesn’t budge. “No!” Glenn yells. “AGAIN!” A little -- it moves a little -- but nothing that’s gonna rescue anybody anytime soon. “Fuck this… FUCK THIS!” Glenn yells, then Ben can hear him mumble. “Just need a little more. Just a little more…” Again, the sound of drinking, the empty clunk of a thrown bottle. “Fuck this. Let’s get this fucking thing!” They both heave. It moves… slightly! “MORE!” And they both strain. Then, unexpectedly and suddenly enough to surprise Ben, the door doesn’t slide up so much as it gives in to the pressure and folds, shrieking a metallic screech like a tin can collapsing. The force throws Ben off balance and he trips over the crowbar, slamming into the cinderblock wall on the opposite side of the hall. So hard, it knocks the wind from him -- and from the way his head slams back into the brick, he knows he’s about to lose consciousness, too. The image he’s left with: his brother. His brother! Not the teddy-bear, snowman-shaped sibling he’s known for forty years -- not unless his brother is the Hulk and Ben has never figured it out. Standing there in the doorway, arms over his head pushing the door up further, Glenn is massive -- his muscles are impossible! Thick and heavy, but not ripped and “cut” like a bodybuilder in competition. Glenn’s lines are curvaceous, not tight, his flabby tummy has become a “roid-gut”, big, curved lines, round muscle bellies, bloated and swollen -- he wears electric blue posing trunks and a spandex half-shirt that doesn’t reach the bottom of his bulbous pecs, exposing his thick nipples. His biceps are easily as big as his head, maybe bigger while flexed like this -- Glenn’s breathless in his joy, in his win, in his show of power. Look at the size of him! Ben can see his brother is fighting a hard-on in the tiny, shiny posers he barely wears as he flexes his triumph at ripping the door from its track -- he’s so masculine, but what he wears is so… flowery. Feminine. He flexes a most-muscular, popping his traps and his pecs -- just like the Hulk used to on the old TV show when they were kids, fantasizing about being so big. And then -- helplessly -- Ben finally passes out, lost in confusion and darkness. Only certain that he’s too late. ********************************************************************************* Chock! That’s the sound he wakes to, the heavy stone stacking of brick. Chock! Or cinderblocks… Ben opens his eyes tentatively, taking a moment to process where he is. Although he’s leaning against the wall, there are pallets of CYCLE ONE all around him -- he must be in Unit Three! Why…? Chock! What the fuck is that? As he stirs, rising to investigate, he discovers there’s a chain wrapped several times around his ankle -- padlocked on! -- connecting him to the pallet. He screams. “Glenn! GLENN!” “Oh, you’re awake,” he hears from somewhere across the unit, out of sight. “And here I was trying to be quiet…” Chock! “What the fuck is going on?” Glenn laughs. “Good tv.” “What? Glenn, I’m chained to this pallet.” “Yeah, I know -- calm down. Freakin’ out is not gonna help you, bro. It’ll be easier if you think of it as an Escape Room -- the intent IS for you to get out, after all.” Chock! “I don’t understand.” There’s a heavy sigh. “Can you stand up, at least?” his brother asks. “So we can talk face to face.” Ben stands, the chain uncomfortably tight around his ankle, his headache pounding. The pallets are just under six feet high (stacked with cases of Cycle One -- perhaps the last cases of Cycle One), and Ben can see over the top. Not that that lessens the horror. His brother -- his massively muscled brother -- Ben still can’t adjust to the change -- is resealing the hole in the cinderblock wall between units two and three, using the broken pieces from before. He spreads a sloppy layer of cement with his bare hands and then drops a cinderblock into it. Chock! He’s rebuilt the wall only a little higher than his chest, so Ben can still see Glenn’s pecs, traps and shoulders -- and of course, his arms. (He’s so big -- it’s just not possible.) “What are you doing?” Ben asks, barely keeping the fear from his voice. “Okay, again -- calm down,” Glenn said patronizingly, spreading cement. “Freaking out will just waste your time. It’s easy to get out of here -- I’m even gonna tell you how.” Chock! “Glenn, what the fuck…?” Glenn reaches through the opening with his muscular arm -- he’s holding a flashlight and a set of keys (he’s getting cement on them from his fingers). He drops them on the floor, well on the other side of the room. “These are the keys to your chains,” he says, pulling his arm back and peeking through the gap. “And my torch, which is a literary allusion -- forget it. Anyway, I figure after drinking a dozen bottles or so, you’ll be big enough to drag that pallet over here and get these keys.” “WHAT?!?” “I told ya, it’s good tv.” Chock! “See, Ben,” Glenn says as he continues re-building the wall, “I knew you wouldn’t drink it voluntarily. No doubt you ran home and researched it and found all the reasons NOT to drink it -- that’s so like you -- but I say when you come across a magic muscle potion, you drink it! That’s the difference between you and me.” Chock! “Would you please stop doing that?” Glenn doesn’t stop -- he continues. “But then I thought, what if he’s his normal smart-ass self? What if he just tears through the heavy plastic and empties the pallet? That’d make it pretty easy to drag across the room, right? So I decided to create another little obstacle for you. Even if you cheat on the pallet (and personally, I don’t think you’re strong enough to tear through the industrial plastic), you still gotta get through this wall. But I figure, after you drink a case, you’ll do it with ease. Look what I did to that fuckin’ roll-up door!” He laughs. “It’s so fucking awesome, Bro!” “Glenn… please…” Chock! “I considered simply force-feeding you, but that’s kind of an overused trope, isn’t it? This way makes more compelling drama. Did you see the camera over by the sliding door?” Ben looks to his left and sees the camera on its tripod atop a pallet of CYCLE ONE, aimed at him, filming his dilemma. Good TV... “I filmed my own transformation,” Glenn adds. “Well, not so solid at the beginning, but I have a cum-shot at the end that’ll blow you out of the water! And my Scanty Fashion Show will get us a ton of views!” “What?” “Trust me, Ben -- this stuff enhances EVERYTHING!” “Glenn, please don’t do this.” “You’ll thank me, bro. That I know -- you just need the right motivation. String bean like you… it’s what you’ve always dreamed of. Big muscles. Feels good. No work. Right up your alley.” Chock! The wall is almost complete -- just a small gap at the top. Enough to maybe get a grip on… Ben pulls on the chain -- he’s securely in place. This is all a little too melodramatic for him. Would his brother actually abandon him here and let him die? What the fuck? “For the love of God, Glenn!” he shouts as the last cinderblock wedges into place. “Stop!” “Get drinking,” he hears his brother say, his voice muffled. “You can be out in an hour! I’ll be over here working out and modeling posers -- haha!” “Glenn! GLENN!” But Glenn doesn’t answer. All Ben hears is the sounds of gay porn -- vintage gay porn -- the moaning and the raw need permeating the cement wall. Beyond that, the clang of weights in the first unit -- Glenn is at it again. Ben screams out of frustration more than anything else, knowing no one can hear him -- they’re in the middle of nowhere. He’s trapped -- TRAPPED! And completely at the mercy of his brother’s dark sense of 19th century drama. He sits against the wall in a fetal position, crying. Why does this have to be such a difficult choice? At the heart, Glenn is right -- he hates being skinny -- he hates being String Bean. Muscle Zombies searching for hidden stashes of Cycle One… Transformations. He still seems like the same Glenn. (Except maybe the chaining his brother around the ankle part…) Just a fuck-ton bigger -- more masculine. Sexier. He holds the bottle in his hand -- firm, hard plastic -- unemotional, cold. What if you held a magic muscle-growth potion in your hands? Would you drink it? Knowing what it would do? (He hears his brother’s obsessive training.) Knowing what it would change? (He hears the vintage porn.) He looks at the camera and flies it the bird. Fuck you, good TV. Finally, long minutes later, the sound of him cracking the bottle echoes around Unit Three.
  21. Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad October 21st, 2022 2200 Hours Twenty minutes later, Casey stood in the center of the main Valhalla laboratory, stripped down to a tight shiny black micro posing suit, bulging dangerously in the pouch, and threatening to burst. His muscles glowed. He was huge, enormous, the biggest he had been yet in his young life. Lightly oiled, his youthful brown skin gleamed in the clear white LED light. Dr. Zaftig stood at his side, beaming with calm inner pride. But Casey was nervous. There he was, stripped down to bulging posers that barely covered his manhood, and ready for review. For the first time. And as always, in some place deep inside him, he was embarrassed by his hugely oversized penis. It was just too big. One by one, the 18 bodybuilders filed in silently from their post-White Cap-workout showers in the next wing, looking over the gigantic new recruit with studied casualness. For almost two years they’d grimly listened to Dr. Irving’s deliberately passive-aggressive progress reports. Casey was this, Casey had that, Casey lifted this much, Casey was however-big, Casey was the hope of the future. Etc. They were weary of it. They were angered by it. And some were threatened by it. And perhaps, just a little fearful? No: not fearful. Challenged. And in the case of Hension, Blankenship, Lang, Meyer and Waring, more inspired than anything else. “If he’s that big, I wanna be bigger,” said Hension one afternoon at lunch, to no one in particular. Chad smacked him on the back of his head, and with a short grunt, Hension came a little in his jock. “Sorry. I forgot you liked that.” “I’d like it more if you were a girl.” Hension had long since given up hiding his particular fetish. He took a big mouthful of beef and chewed, ruminating. “You wanna fuck pussy? Abdul can arrange.” From across the table, Abdul grunted and shook his head. “He don’t want pussy.” “Naw. He’s right. I don’t. Hot pussy don’t dig muscles like mine. I just wanna chick who knows how to slap my face right. Good and hard each time. Back and forth. Pow, pow. Leave hand prints. Then I wanna fuck boybutt pussy. And suck some big dick.” Hension looked at Abdul. “Yours, maybe.” Abdul nodded slightly. “Sure, you suck dick good. Any time.” He sipped his coffee. All chuckled a little, but everyone was still thinking about Casey. Over the last few weeks, a few had gone so far as to belly up secretly to the cadet gym two-way windows late at night to watch and study Casey’s lonely training late night training sessions. There the giant teen was, alone night after night in the vast half lit gym, fully clothed, muscles bulging in the yards of a completely enveloping, dripping cotton sweatsuit, insanely going through punishing reps, hurling buckets of sweat, drawing blood, banging out steaming iron reps with teeth-clenching screaming pain, grimly determined, all the while screaming and moaning to himself: Gotta get bigger Gotta get bigger Gotta get bigger….. And on it went. Night after night. The boy was insatiable, indefatigable. As if nothing could ever stop him. And now, the time had finally come. Casey watched them file into the lab. Outfitted in crisp, clean tan khakis and wearing skin tight Army regulation green t-shirts, hair still wet from their post-workout showers, they were an intimidating herd of hardcore beefmeisters. Huge, cut, and vascular to a man, their massive physiques almost aching with heavy, rippling muscle. Casey had been watching them for months, grabbing glimpses of them on campus, running, bicycling, practicing their posing, whenever he could, just as he knew they had been watching him as well in the corridors and working out in the cadet gym. He even knew a few of them by name. Private Lang and Corporal Alvarez, who were always together, Private Gunst, Private Waring, Private Jin. He had never spoken to any of them, out of shyness and awe. And he even recognized Corporal Obatu from Raw Weight Gym. He nodded bashfully to him. Obatu grinned hugely and waved with his huge paw of a hand. “Hello, Casey,” he said in his best Isaac Hayes. “Hi!” Casey said eagerly, but caught the glance from Zaftig. He resumed his blank expression, readjusted, and gazed ahead, eyes high. He squared his shoulders and stood with his pecs pointed high in full 'bodybuilder rest' pose. Of course Casey knew nothing of the cum-blasting shower orgy from which the men had just emerged. And to a man, rather feeling drained, all were primed and ready....for whatever came next. A few had their hopes, but discipline would prevail. Tonight was presentation. Only. Or so they thought. The men looked him over. “Hmmmm,” muttered Schumacher. “Damn he’s got big nipples!” someone whispered. There was the sound of that someone being smacked. In the second row of bodybuilders, an astonishingly handsome young bodybuilder stumbled and grabbed the back of the head. “Hey!” said Hension, indignant. “Shut up,” said Chad. Casey was excited. These men were seriously huge, each and every one far even bigger than Miles Donovan. Though he was almost sure he was prepared for them, even so – man alive! This was a lotta muscle. He gulped with nervousness. Sergeant Moster entered last. Casey stared, suddenly stricken. He’d never seen Moster before. Even in his clean white loose-fit baggies, he was the biggest muscleman Casey had ever seen in his life. It seemed to him he towered over the others, though truth to tell, if he’d been calmer he’d have noticed that at least 3 of the men were close to him in size and muscularity. Close. But not the equal. Not yet. “This is Staff Sergeant Rod Moster,” said Dr. Zaftig. Behind Moster, Dr. Irving scurried into the room, struggling noisily with his omnipresent video camera, lights, and clipboards. “Sergeant Moster will be supervising your training in the future.” “Yes, sir!” Casey had never been prouder. He stood straight and tall. Moster strolled over to Casey. “So this is Cadet Rockland,” he said slowly, appraising him up and down. He seemed to take over from Zaftig, who stepped back, offering no protest. Here, Moster was in charge. Moster circled Casey. He looked impressed, in spite of himself. Finally he had to give in. He turned to Zaftig. A moment passed. “He’s got great bones,” he said quietly. “Yes, great bones,” said Zaftig. “Bones like that come along once every three generations.” “He could go the limit.” “Maybe. Can’t tell yet.” What’s all this about bones? Casey wondered. He gathered it was something good, though, even great, so he stood erect, proud and tall. He fixed his clear blue eyes on the wall straight ahead and stood at attention. To a man, the 18 glanced down at the boy’s pendulously swaying posing suit pouch. The soft, thick bulge lay slack than halfway down against his right quad. Lang licked his lips. Next to him, Blankenship dug his elbow into Lang's abs, nodded, smiled, and winked. He pointed to his own mouth and with his fist simulated taking in a big organ. Moster barked out a few terse questions. “How old are you, Casey?” “18.” “What was that?” “18.” He corrected himself, and barked, “I’m 18, sir!” “That’s much better.” Moster smiled, amused. “And how much do you weigh, cadet?” “310 pounds, sir.” “Hmm. Really. Good. Good for you, son.” Casey readjusted and stood a little taller when he heard the huge black man say "son." Now the 18 were murmuring and looking him over with critical sharpness. Looking for weaknesses, looking for a lack of symmetry, looking for a spot of subcutaneous fat. And no weaknesses were to be found. One short young ginger muscleman whose name he didn’t know was smiling at him sardonically. He was uncommonly good-looking, as were they all, but something about him looked mean. He whispered to a grizzled older bodybuilder next to him, who was bigger and even meaner looking than he was. The older guy scowled. He was perhaps 40, bald, with rough deeply tanned skin, a day old beard, and a chest coating of iron-grey hair. Casey couldn’t help but notice the heavily looming bulges in the crotches of their khakis. As he tried not to stare, the pretty one who had gotten his head smacked reached down the front of his pants for some adjustment. Moster followed his gaze and smiled a little. Zaftig, as always, was clueless. "Tell him to turn around." "Casey, let the men see your back." Casey turned full around, facing the rear of the lab. He readjusted. He couldn't see the men's faces. But he could hear them. A few moaned quietly. "Jesu Christe, check out dem glutes..." Two round, rock hard butt cheek globes, glinting with light filled the room. No one could look elsewhere. Meyer, the deaf mute, stared, his mouth slightly open. He turned and nodded vigorously to Abdul, toweing over him, pulling at his belt. "Yeah, I see them," said Abdul, careful to face Meyer so he could read his lips. "Them. Er. Him. I see him." "For the record," said Zaftig airily, "Dr. Irving and I think Casey's traps and rear delts may be his best bodyparts." "Yeah, they'll do," said Alvarez. His hand went down to the front of his pants absently. His bulge was beginning to get a little bigger. "Now that's a bubble butt," said Obatu. "Sweet, sweet cupcakes. Cupcakes for a man to enjoy...." Casey was coloring deeply, glad the men couldn't see his face. "Lat spread, Casey," said Zaftig. Casey complied. Bat wings spread wide, fists plunged into his sides. His spread his legs slightly for the full effect. "And now, rear double biceps." Cannonballs shot to the ceiling. The glutes hardened slightly, veins popping, striations shining like rivers of platinum. "All right, then, turn back. Sergeant?" "Yes." Moster walked to a lab table and picked up a thick 4-foot iron bar. He tossed it at Casey, who caught it handily with one hand. It weighed about 75 pounds. “See what you can do with that, son.” Casey paused. “Sir?” “I’m not going to say it twice.” Casey nodded. He imagined the sergeant wanted him to bend the bar. He wanted to impress him, so he raised the bar high over his head, and easily bent it into a U shape. He brought the bar down and inspected it a moment, and then walked respectfully over to Sergeant Moster and handed it to him eagerly. Moster took it. “Okay, fair, fair,” he said, nodding and showing the bent bar to the group. Some of the men began to nod and chuckle. Casey returned to his spot and resumed his muscle-ready stance. Moster took the bar in his powerful hands, and bent it back to something like its original shape. He grinned, his big white teeth shining. Then he threw the bar into the air, caught it, and with a single movement powerfully snapped it in two. Casey’s jaw dropped. “Damn,” he said. “Dr. Irving, let’s hear the man’s measurements.” “We haven’t taken his measurements for a month, Sergeant.” Moster glanced down over Zaftig, his deep voice resonating. “You present a new cadet to the team, and you don’t have his recent measurements? Zaftig, you’re getting sloppy.” “I thought perhaps you might want to record the cadet’s measurements for yourself, Sergeant,” Zaftig said slyly. He wasn’t intimidated. Moster looked at Zaftig expressionlessly, then called back over his shoulder. “Private Tiffany, step forward and take the man’s measurements.” The short ginger bodybuilder stepped forward cockily. He looked younger than Casey, though Casey guessed he was really just his age. His wavy red-black hair fell in a forelock over his forehead. He had freckles. His skin was butterscotch tan, his eyes a deep, rich blue. And, like the others, he was hugely muscular, packing well over 220 pounds on his 5’6” frame. Casey noted the perfect round shape of his strong young baseball biceps, rife with rivulets of veins, and the piston-thick forearms. His heavy shoulders bulged with packed muscle. He could have moved pianos with one hand. He was bow-legged, his quads swaying gently outward as he walked. In his fly, his package appeared to be nearly as big as Casey knew his own to be, but on such a short guy it appeared twice as big. He looked as if he had to walk around his dick with each step he took. And he looked vaguely familiar. “This is Private 1st Class Joe Tiffany. I see you’re wondering about his age. Private Tiffany, get the tape measure and the clipboard from Dr. Irving. Tiffany here is 19 years old. He started with The Protocol when he was 15. I’m sure you two will be great buddies.” Casey didn’t know what to make of this. He decided that even with the kid’s big muscles, thick package and all, he didn’t want to be buddies with him. “Okay,” he said. “Hello.” Tiffany stepped forward, extending a hand as if to shake and, as Casey leaned in, walked past him, instead taking the tape measure and clipboard from Dr. Irving. Turning back, he graciously handed just the clipboard to Moster, and strolled confidently over to Casey. He looked up slyly at the baffled, tall young musclemen towering over him. “Hi, Casey,” he introduced himself breezily. “I’m Joe Tiffany. You’re very lookin’ good, man. Like the buzz cut.” Casey gazed down at Tiffany, perplexed, who grinned back at him serenely, displaying two rows of perfect white teeth. He was smart and smooth, and he grinned easily. He made Casey nervous, all the more so when, for a flash of an instant, he detected a wicked twinkle deep in Joe’s eyes. Joe winked at him. Then he wiped his face clean and looked back at Moster, all innocence. “Sir, I need some help, sir.” Moster snorted impatiently. “Corporal Schumacher, get Tiffany something he can stand on.” From the line the older guy Tiffany had been whispering to strode to the desk area and returned with a metal stool. He tossed it in the air to Tiffany, who caught it easily. While never very bright, Casey was all the same possessed of unquestionably fine animal instincts. He knew trouble when he saw it. He glanced up and down the older man Moster had addressed as Schumacher. His muscle density was impressive. His arms were thick, ripped and veiny. Two iron cross tattoos graced each forearm. His skin was calloused and rough, and his hands were huge, with bruised, knotty knuckles. He was now leaning in to Tiffany, so close to him his heavy pecs were almost touching his face. Casey could see the outlines of two heavy brown nipples in his tight Army regulation green t-shirt. Schumacher shot a dirty look up at him, and pushed his pecs into Tiffany’s’ face. “I told you before I want to see you my room. Later.” He spoke in a low tone. The muscleboy stepped back indifferently and spoke with offhand innocence. “Hey, it’s late, dude. I don’t think so tonight.” He pulled out the tape and turned to Casey. Schumacher glanced briefly up at the muscleman towering over them both and sneered a little, but Casey could spot the dash of respect in his eyes. He turned back to Tiffany. “I mean it, punk. In my room. Later.” “Leave me alone, old man. I have work to do with the young dude.” He stepped on the stool without looking again at Schumacher and stood before Casey, holding the tape measure and smiling sweetly. His words stung. Schumacher looked up at Casey and silently mouthed the words H-A-N-D-S O-F-F Casey returned the look dumbly. “Later,” Corporal Schumacher snarled to Tiffany. Moster looked up. “You have a problem, Corporal?” Schumacher turned and strode away. In the corner of the lab, Dr. Irving was recording every moment on his ever-present video cam. Standing on the stool, Joe was now a little taller than Casey. He squatted down just a little, stuck his butt out behind him for support, and brought his eyes even to Casey. He looked him up and down and whispered in his ear. “Let’s see how big you really are, buddy,” he murmured. He brought his hand down and flicked his own crotch gently with his thumb, turning his broad back for cover. Only Casey could see him do it. He looked at him out of the side of his eyes, suddenly nervous about this big little bodybuilder, who clearly had more than his share of cojones, and his dangerous muscle daddy friend, who clearly had issues. “Whenever you’re ready, Private.” “I’m ready, sir.” “Good. Get to it. Right biceps.” Casey snapped his right arm to attention and flexed the biceps full. Tiffany let out a low whistle. “Bring it on home, baby. Nice peaks. Cannonballs, even. Swole. Nice.” “Yeah, yeah,” muttered Casey, flexing both biceps now, trying to be casual. “Get to it, Private,” repeated Moster. “Okay, measuring. Sir! I’m guessing 23 inches, sir!” Casey glanced contemptuously at him with one eyebrow cocked high. “Try that again,” he said levelly. Tiffany charmingly fumbled with the tape measure and double-checked. “I’m sorry, sir,” he reported. “26 inches, sir.” “That’s better.” Casey looked forward and tried to make his face serene. He was already getting pissed. What did this young asshole know? Moster made a note on his clipboard. Behind him, Schumacher was fuming. Casey imagined he could see smoke coming out of his ears. “Left arm.” Casey lowered his right and brought his left forward. Pow - Ka-boom.. .. Tiffany brushed the rocky peak with his fingertips. “No touching the goods,” Casey hissed. “26 inches, sir.” Tiffany was all smiles. “Chest.” “Let’s see, Superman, just how we’re going to do this. Turn to one side?” he inquired sweetly. Casey just looked at Tiffany. “Damn it, cadet, turn! Do as he asks.” Moster was getting impatient. Casey turned. “And expand your chest.” Casey’s giant pecs roiled and blew to their fullest size. Tiffany gently reached around Casey, and by tossing one end of the tape from one hand to the other, he coyly avoiding touching him with all but the tape and his lightly pinching fingers. “68 inches.” “Hmmm. There’s room for growth. Waistline.” Tiffany climbed down from the stool and brought the tape around Casey’s taut abs. Again he managed not to touch him. Even so, Casey felt a slight stirring from his crotch. “32 inches.” “32?? Dammit, Zaftig, what have you been feeding this boy? Chocolate cake? Twinkies?” I’m no boy, thought Casey. And I don’t eat Twinkies. His crotch twitched again. He glanced around the room and saw other crotches twitching as well. 6 or 7 of the men seemed to be sporting half erections, bulging in their khakis. No one said anything. All expressions were deadly serious. It was as if no one noticed, minded or cared that more than a half dozen of these musclemen were now sporting serious wood. “I’m sorry, Sergeant,” said Zaftig. “I haven’t felt it was the time, before tonight, to put Casey under your advanced care and guidance. He wasn’t quite ready, I felt.” “Assuredly. Casey, things are going to be a little different for you after tonight. Quads.” “33 inches, sir.” “Dayumn….” muttered Hension. Then the sound of the back of his head being smacked again. “Ouch!” In back, Karim Abdul watched stonily, not reacting. He, Moster, and Dr. Zaftig were the only men in the room whose flies remained unexpanded. Even Dr. Irving was by now showing a little bulge. “Room for improvement everywhere,” said Moster. He made a note on the clipboard. “Calves?” “28 inches.” “That’s good, anyway. Feet?” “I wear 18 DD shoes,” Casey answered. “Speak when spoken to, Cadet Casey. But thank you. Inseam.” Inseam? “For the uniform.” Oh. Tiffany crouched down and placed the tape just at Casey’s ankle, and brought it up. He paused. “With or without testicles, sir?” he asked. “Without.” Moster was impatient. Tiffany was getting on his nerves, but he wasn’t about to show it. “Sorry, big boy, but you got a couple of low-hangers there. Pardon my fingers?” In a swift move that startled Casey, Tiffany, ignoring Casey’s growing tumescence, gently cupped Casey’s balls in his hand, lifted them and delicately moved them out of the way. “Shucks, dude, they’re pretty heavy,” he smirked. Casey was thoroughly humiliated. He felt like knocking this punk's block off, realizing that if he did he’d probably kill him if he even tried. He said nothing. “42 inches.” “Good. Now Zaftig, leave us alone with Casey. We all want to get to know him better.” Zaftig glanced over at Dr. Irving, who had withdrawn to the far corner of the room to be as far away from Moster as possible. He nodded towards the door. Irving cleared his throat and buttoned his lab coat. Zaftig leaned in and whispered harshly to Moster. “No touching. Leave him be.” Moster nodded. "Sure, of course. We'll be nice." Zaftig and Irving left the lab together. In the corner, the video camera whirred, its red light blinking, unheeded. As soon as they were gone the other 16 men came forward. Slowly they circled Casey, Joe Tiffany, and Sergeant Moster. “That’s all, Private Tiffany. Get back in line.” Moster turned to Casey, paused, and began to speak with great deliberation. “I’m the man in charge here. Going forward, you’ll do what I say. These men have all been through it. It’s your turn now.” The bodybuilders gazed evenly at Casey, who stared back, his head slightly bowed. He had neither seen nor imagined such a landscape of muscle in his life. He was beginning to get intimidated. “The motherfucker’s huge,” murmured Private Lang appreciatively. “Yes, sir.” Casey forced a smile, and he saluted. Moster smiled back, a grim humorless smile. “It would seem that you want to please me. Is that the case, Casey?” “Yes, sir, I do, sir!” “Glad to hear it, son. You have a few more years of hardcore training ahead of you. You have great potential, boy, but you haven’t realized it all yet. Has he, men?” Mutters. We’ll get you down to the gym tomorrow and we’ll all shake it out together. Men, you’re done here tonight. Dismissed. Go to bed. Good night.” Moans of general disappointment. Schumacher and Karim Abdul remained silent. “That’s all men.” A pause. “You too, Tiffany.” “Not just yet,” said Abdul. Moster looked at him, his eyebrow raised. “Corporal?” Abdul turned full to Moster. “Not just yet. I want to see if he can take it.” Moster knew full well what he meant. “Take what, Corporal?” “Get him a singlet,” said Abdul to Lang, who eagerly turned and scampered out of the lab. “You know where to meet us,” he called after him, perhaps unnecessarily. The men could hear Lang’s running footsteps as he hightailed it gleefully down the long hall to the locker room. Moster sighed. “Do we have to go through this? Again?” He remembered that when Alvarez was admitted to the program, Abdul had demanded to meet him in the wrestling ring right off the bat. He looked around. All the men were smiling in anticipation. Casey was baffled. “A singlet? We gonna wrestle?” “Yes, son, we’re going to wrestle,” answered Abdul. “You wrestled before?” Casey remembered his brutal ring training with Ramon Ramon, who never failed to pin him, even though he was only half Casey’s size and weight. “Yes, sir.” “Good.” Abdul turned to go, slipping out of his t-shirt. Casey could see he was wearing a singlet underneath, and was surprised he’d missed it before, considering how tight the t-shirts were. Karim was walking away, going for his belt, when he turned back. “You comin’?” Casey gulped a little. “Yes, sir.” The man who stood before him was fearsome indeed, a dark, mature Arab with blackened, hairy, super dry, super vascular, magnificent superheavyweight muscles. The thick black hair of his chest was like a matted carpet, tinged with grey and curling around the heavy, downward pointing nipples. His python-thick cock unfurled heavily in the singlet crotch, heavy, soft, half-visible behind thin, quivering spandex, pulsing, veined, thrust forward between powerful hips. His waist was impossibly narrow, his abs like 8 anvils, his pecs and biceps bulging with muscle and ridic veins. He spread his legs wide. “Hey, look,” breathed Blankenship, staring. Casey looked down, a little panicky, and saw his own massive cock was now tent-poling his posers. Reinforced or no, the 5 square inches of cloth that still managed to cover his big penis head were straining, the fabric ready to tear to shreds. His veiny blond shaft was completely exposed, pointing straight up and out. Curling thick tendrils of his young blond pubic sprouted generously from the juncture of his penis and his vascular, rocky pubis mound. He colored deeply, squatted slightly, tried in vain to readjust himself, his fingers digging deeply into the side straps, trying to control the pouch, which was nowhere near equal to covering Casey's looming erection. Suddenly Casey's penis head ripped through the black cloth, an alien bursting out of a stomach. Casey looked up, utterly distressed. “Don’t worry about it, Casey,” said Moster quietly. The men turned and looked back, and for the first time, got a glimpse of Casey’s humongous penis, half exposed, throbbing behind his expanding posers, which was tearing slightly, ballooning away from his hips. Blond, thick-skinned, massive, covered with luscious veins. “I’d call that a suckable fuck machine of the 1st order,” said Blankenship. He licked his lips a little. Casey looked humiliated. “I asked you a question,” said Abdul. “Are you coming?” And Casey came. “He seems to be,” said Alvarez drily. Just a little precum, appearing at the tip of the piss slit, dribbling down the corona onto his erect shaft. But it was enough. His face turned beet red. He looked up, his eyes hopeful. "Okay?" he finally asked. The men nodded in satisfaction. Abdul ignored it. “Then let’s go, asswipe.” He turned and walked out of the room, headed for the wrestling ring in the next wing. The musclemen followed, each one turning slowly and massively, heading for the door. “Let’s go, Casey,” said Moster wearily. He threw him a towel. “Here, cover up if you’re embarrassed.” “Thank you, sir,” said Casey meekly. “Though with a machine like that you should be proud, not embarrassed. Tiffany!” Moster called out. “Get Dr. Irving back in here and tell him to move that camera down to the wrestling ring.” He smiled grimly. “I have a feeling Abdul may be a little surprised.” __________________________________________ Want to read "The Twenty" from the start? Links to chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland  "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - The Musclemen Revealed: Inside Zaftig's Lab "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 21 - Sam and Casey "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 22 - Field Trips for Worship, Part 1 "The Twenty" - Chapter 23 - Field Trips, Part 2 – Casey Rediscovers Muscle Worship, and Makes a New Friend "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 24 - Further Encounters 5: Sam and Casey Again, and Moster and the Cadets
  22. Hola, esta es mi primer historia aquí; me inspiré en un video que vi en YouTube; así que si hay similitudes es por eso. También quisiera aportar algo a la comunidad en español que adoran los músculos y el muscle growth. Capítulo uno Un día viernes, finales de primavera e inicio de verano. Yo soy Henrry un científico que se dedica a desarrollar nuevas formas de crecimiento en seres vivos, aunque solo se pueda probar en plantas. Vivo en los suburbios con mi novio, Ben; él es un maestro de parvulario, le encanta cocinar y comer pastelillos, y sí, es obeso. Mi cuerpo es uno más saludable que el de él, soy más alto y soy el activo de la relación; él es un poco más bajo y más gordo que yo, pero aún así lo amo, es mi osito Teddie y el es muy tierno conmigo y todos los niños lo aman, lo conocen como el profesor Teddie o profesor osito, muy tierno la verdad. Ben siempre intenta hacerme feliz cocinando ricas comidas; aunque a veces suelen pasarse un poco de calorías; es por eso que el tiene "un poco" de sobrepeso, yo en cambio tengo un buen cuerpo, delgado y de 1.77, cuido mi dieta un poco más y como menos que él ya que no tendría el corazón para despreciar su comida. En serio lo amo; pero hay algo que me hace querer cambiar; él se estaba poniendo un poco más obeso, lo cuál era normal con su dieta; pero vi un video sobre un muchacho que se veía como Ben y terminó viéndose como una morsa gracias a que nunca cambió su dieta e incluso no podía levantarse de su cama, tenía miedo de que esto le pasara a mi osito, además veía cómo las parejas solían salir a ejercitarse y tenían cuerpos saludables, realmente quería que Ben y yo hiciéramos eso; además que se acercaba la reunión de ex alumnos de preparatoria y varios de mis ex novios y amigos estarán allí y aunque lo ame, muchas personas hablarán de su físico... Ese mismo día en la noche decidí preguntarle si podría dejar de poner demasiadas especias y hacer otra cosa diferente para comer. -Oye, amor. ¿Qué te parece si haces otra cosa que comer? Hemos comido mucho filete y ya estoy aburrido. -Eh? Pero ya casi está todo listo... *decía con su dulce voz* -Sí, pero no sé quiero probar algo diferente a lo que cocinas... -¿No te gusta mi comida? *preguntaba decepcionadamente* -Sí, me gusta pero no sé, quizá algo un poco más saludable, quizá. -Pues... Es que ya preparé todo y no sé qué hacer... -Agh, sabes qué? Vamos a comer (No podía decirle que no, es tan tierno y fue mi culpa por no haberle dicho antes; aunque en el fondo no me sentía a gusto ya que sólo hacía que comiera menos sano) -¡Está bien, a comer! Lo hice con mucho cariño para ti, como todas mis comidas la verdad, já. -Sí, jejé... Decidimos ir a ver televisión un rato, estábamos abrazados y justo pasaron un comercial sobre un gimnasio nuevo. -Oye, mira un gimnasio, ¿interesante, no? -Sí, si tú lo dices... -Vaya, mira sus cuerpos delgados y tonificados, es impresionante. -Hmmp... -Ah, y mira como se divierten usando las máquinas, ¡eso si que es una vida en movimiento! El comercial terminó y Ben me veía un poco descorcentado y decepcionado al mismo tiempo. -Oye, una pregunta... ¿Te gustan más ellos que yo? -Qué? N-no... Solo me parecía interesante. -Pero decías lo bien que se veían y yo pienso que quizás a ti no te gusta como soy... -No, para nada, solo me parecía interesante como eran capaces para moverse así y tener la energía para eso; tú eres perfecto así como estás, eres lo mejor que me ha pasado en la vida, así con tus muchos kilos...estás...bien... -En serio? G-gracias, te amo Henrry. Toma, te compré un pastelillo, es de mi pastelería favorita, fui a comer hoy allí. -Gracias... Así que fuiste allí otra vez, eh? -Sí, me encantan sus pasteles. -He de admitir que también a mi, pero me gustan muchos más los que haces tú. -Ah, sí. Toma, tu pastelillo que te hice esta tarde, olvidé que también te hice uno. -¡Gracias! La verdad no puedo resistirme a sus pastelillos, son tan deliciosos y siempre me recibe con uno y un regalo demás, en serio se nota que me ama, y aunque todos los días me coma un pastelillo, siempre bajo esas calorías cuando corro en las mañanas; hablando de correr; sí, he intentado que se una a mi pero no quiere ir, le da un poco de vergüenza ya que se cansaría más rápido que yo, y no puedo obligarlo... El siguiente día, un nuevo científico llega a la ciudad y se une a los laboratorios donde yo trabajo. Él era conocido por haber hecho investigaciones sobre los cambios del cuerpo humano y sus diferentes tipos, él tenía un cuerpo parecido al mío, solo que con 2cm menos de estatura. Me acerqué a él para saludarlo ya que su trabajo me parecía muy interesante. -Hola, Dr. Magnus, quiero decirle que amo su trabajo e investigaciones. -Hola, tú debes ser el Dr. Henrry, he oído mucho de ti, creo que tú trabajo será muy útil para lo que tengo en mente. -¡Vaya! Eso es genial, estaré dispuesto a lo que sea, con tal de trabajar con usted. -Me alegro mucho. Ven a mi laboratorio luego de la reunión de bienvenida por favor. -Ahí estaré. -Ah! Y por favor no le digas a nadie que te cité. Estaba emocionado, esto podría darme un gran reconocimiento. Me pregunto qué querrá hablar conmigo... Llegué lo más rápido que pude al nuevo laboratorio del Dr. Magnus, era un laboratorio enorme y tenía un gran tanque de agua, enorme en realidad, al parecer él lo había mandado a hacer; quizá haría experimentaciones con el agua y eso. -Ya estoy aquí Dr. -Muy bien, es hora de que hablemos de un proyecto que tengo en mente; pero primero que nada he de decir que he leído tu trabajo y me alegra que hayas tenido buenos resultados. -¡Sí, muchas gracias! Estuve trabajando como loco, aunque es una pena que solo funcione en plantas, esto beneficiará mucho al mundo, espero probar esto en otros seres vivos como peces u otros animales para saciar la producción de comida en el mundo. Para el que no sepa, mi trabajo fue sobre el crecimiento acelerado de plantas y su beneficio para la agricultura; fue exitoso y me parece genial que le haya gustado al Dr. Magnus. -Sí Henrry, espero que funcione en animales; pero ¿y en humanos? -Podría también, pero eso es arriesgarse mucho. -Pues para eso estoy yo, y es por eso que te he traído hasta acá para que trabajemos juntos en esto. -¿y qué es? -Pues verás, existen diferentes tipos de cuerpos humanos; pero ¿Qué tal si todos tuvieran un cuerpo delgado? Sería beneficioso para evitar los casos de diabetes, hipertensión, etc. -A qué se refiere? -Me refiero a que con tu método de aceleración de crecimiento, ¡podríamos acelerar la pérdida de peso en muchos seres humanos! -Vaya... Eso suena realmente bien. -¡Sí! Pero el problema es que no me dieron el permiso de llevarlo a cabo, ya que no les parece bien experimentar en humanos y blah blah blah. Por eso quiero que no le digas a nadie, ser nuestro secreto... -¡Pero eso sería ilegal y para nada ético!.. No lo sé. -A ver, tu experimento fue un éxito y yo he investigado mucho y me he preparado para esto durante toda mi vida; creo que seriamos capaces de llevarlo a cabo y ser exitosos. Además te pagaría muy bien, eh. -Mmm... -Vamos, ¿no quieres arriesgarte y salir victorioso? O prefieres estar conforme y no volver a tener otro éxito... Recuerda que yo pondré la cara por este experimento si algo sale mal, aunque lo dudo mucho; cómo dije me he leído y probado tus experimentos y he estudiado mucho, esto sería el experimento del siglo. -Yo... mmm... Acepto.... -¡Eso es! Me alegra que aceptaras, verás que no te decepcionaré. -Eso espero. Veía como el Dr. Magnus sonreía confiado, la verdad me hacía sentir un poco mejor, es decir, por algo es uno de los científicos más exitosos del siglo. Llegué a casa a las 2:00pm, Ben ya se encontraba dentro ya que hoy no trabajaba. -Hola... -¡Hola!... ¿Estás bien? Te noto algo triste. -No, solo estoy pensativo... Es algo de un experimento importante en los laboratorios y tengo que trabajar mucho. -Oh, bueno, espero que te vaya bien *Se dirijió y dio un beso a Henrry* Te compré algo, espero que te anime. *saca una camiseta para Henrry* Recuerdo que me dijiste que te gustó una camisa y te la compré. -¡Vaya! Gracias amor. *Le da un beso en la frente a Ben* eres el mejor... Eres tan tierno y dulce... -Gracias, jé... Me compré una yo también, aunque me queda algo apretada...y eso que es grande... -Que lindo, jé (Recuerdo que el Dr. Magnus dijo que este experimento volverá a las personas obesas delgadas y les quitara muchos problemas de encima, quisiera ayudar a Ben, en serio...) Oye, ¿tienes tiempo para salir esta noche? -Sip, ¿vamos a salir a comer? O ¿a dónde? -Te gustaría ir al laboratorio conmigo? Me gustaría que fueras, es algo importante... -¿Hay algo importante? Sí es así voy, no quiero decepcionarte... -No, no es demasiado importante, solo quiero que me ayudes con algo, eso es todo. -Pero yo no sé sobre ciencia y eso, no sé en qué podría ayudar... -No te preocupes, irás para ver algo impresionante que he preparado, será fantástico. -E-está bien, iré para ver, me pregunto que será, aunque seguro que es impresionante como todo lo demás que hace *Se dirije a darle un abrazo a Henrry* sabes que te apoyaré en todo. -Gracias, eres muy especial para mi, te amo... (no sé si deba, pero es por su bien) Me dirijí hacia mi habitación para llamar al Dr. Magnus. -Hola? Dr. Magnus creo que tengo al candidato indicado para este experimento. -En serio!? Genial! ¿Quién es? ¿Podrías enviarme una foto? -Es mi novio Ben, es un chico obeso y es perfecto para el experimento... (En serio iba a hacerle esto?) -Vaya, si que es lindo pero veo que lleva un camino hacia la obesidad mórbida, uyuyuy. -En serio!? Usted cree? -La verdad sí, pero no te preocupes, con este experimento todos sus problemas se acabarán y estarás feliz con tu novio, quien sabe quizá hasta sea favorable para cuando realizas relaciones sexuales con él. -La verdad, es un poco difícil tener relaciones sexuales con Ben, no lo puedo levantar al momento de penetración, no siquiera puedo probar muchas otras posiciones ya que suele cansarse rápido por su peso, y hay tanto que quisiera probar... -(Por qué me dice eso?) Sí, es una pena; ya verás que con esto tendrás relaciones como si estuvieras en una escena porno con el mejor pasivo del mundo, jé... -Sí, no puedo esperar y verlo más saludable y más lindo de lo que ya es. -Yo sé que no Henrry, así que te espero a ti y a tu compañero para el experimento. -Ahí estaré. Adiós. -(Agh, realmente espero que salga bien... Hablar de porno me calentó demasiado, pensando en como disfrutaré con mi nuevo Ben, pequeño y delgado, siendo un power botton total... Pero no es tiempo para dejarse ir, tengo que preparar las cosas) Llego el momento esperado, me llevé a Ben a los laboratorios, en su mirada podía ver lo intrigado que estaba, y lo inocente que era; lo que iba a hacer va a cambiar su vida por completo, pero seguro que le hará bien y puede que su autoestima mejore un poco. Entramos al laboratorio lo más rápido y naturalmente que pudimos, dejé a Henrry fuera de el para que esperara a que prepare el experimento. -Hola Dr. El candidato está afuera esperando, hay que preparar las cosas. -Estupendo, todo está saliendo cómo debería *decía mientras veía a Ben sentado afuera por medio de la ventana* Se ve que necesita tu ayuda, a simple vista puedo decir que tiene una baja autoestima y es muy tímido, esto le ayudará a sentirse mejor. -Sí, la verdad se siente un poco incómodo con su cuerpo; cuando iba a la universidad algunos chicos se burlaban de él y aunque no era nada grave lo hacían sentir mal... Pero usted como sabe que tiene una baja autoestima? -A parte de científico también soy Psicólogo y se mucho sobre las personas con solo ver su comportamiento. -Oh, tiene sentido... ¿Y qué hacemos primero? -¿Trajiste todas tus sustancias? -Sí, incluso las que no usaremos, já, como la de crecimiento muscular y testosterona, y la de crecimiento de estatura. *Dice mientras las muestra y las pone sin percatarse en el escritorio de el doctor* -Perfecto, dame las que aceleran el cambio corporal y las que ayudan a quemar grasa. -Tome *Da las sustancias pedidas a el doctor* (Vaya, si que quiero ir al bañó, debería haber ido hace rato) -Okey, primero vierto las que yo traje a este enorme tanque, y luego las tuyas. *Dice mientras vierte sus propias sustancias para acelerar el metabolismo y el maximizador vitaminico, que brinda las vitaminas necesarias al cuerpo humano* -Mmng.... Por favor.... Tengo que ir al baño, Agh. *Dice mientras da varios saltitos* -JAJA, bien ve. Yo estaré aquí. -Gracias. *Sale corriendo hacia el baño* -Muy bien, vamos a verter las sustancias del Dr. Henry y listo.... *Ay, olvidé conectar la manguera para llenar el tanque con agua, lo saldré para que pase por la ventana y llegue hasta acá. -Uff, ya estoy aquí Dr. Magnus... Hmm parece que salió... Oh, no ha vertido las demás sustancias aún *Dice mientras observa las sustancias que se encontraban en la mesa y sin saberlo puso ahí* muy bien, las verteré yo y nos ahorramos tiempo. *Vertió las sustancias completamente y tiró los tubos a la basura* Oh, parece que el profesor está intentando meter la manguera por la ventana, le iré a ayudar. -Gracias Henrry, solo llenamos el tanque y terminamos. -De nada, al parecer esto tardará un poco... -Sí, hay que distraernos mientras se llena, calculo que será media hora para que lo haga por completo... Y bien? ¿Qué le dijiste al paciente? -No le he dicho para que venía, le dije que quería que viera algo conmigo, no creo que le guste que le diga que vengo a cambiar su cuerpo, además le dije ayer que él era perfecto, soy un mal novio... -Bueno, esto lo haces por su bien, así que no pasa nada. Además, imagínate el buen sexo que tendrías si Ben fuer delgado como esos que salen en los videos porno, haciendo diferente pocisiones más atrevidas y ser más flexible para abrirse; también podrías cargarlo y darle todo lo que tienes ahí abajo... Oír esas palabras hacían que mi verga se pusiera muy dura, estoy seguro que después de esto iré a probar el nuevo cuerpo de Ben y sé que me encantará; verlo pequeño, delgado y sano me hace muy feliz. No tendría que preocuparse por su obesidad y sus camisas le quedarían bien. -S-sí, no puedo esperar para ver al Nuevo Ben, Dr. Magnus. -Yo tampoco; además esto hará que tenga más confianza en sí mismo y estoy seguro que eso te hará feliz. -Sí, el merece ser feliz, es muy tierno y amable pero eso hace que muchas personas quieran aprovecharse de él, pero yo lo protegeré de eso, después de todo es y será mi pequeño osito, solo que más delgado. -Oh, mira el tanque ya se llenó. Trae a el candidato por favor. -Voy *Se dirijió a traer a Ben* Oye Ben, ya está todo listo entra. Ben yacía dormido con sus brazos cruzados encima de su barriga que estaba a punto de desaparecer, aunque él no lo sabía. Y aquí termina el primer capítulo, para no hacerlo tan largo, el segundo capítulo saldrá pronto, esperenlo y lo siento si cometo muchos errores o si voy muy lento, no soy muy bueno escribiendo; pero espero que les haya gustado.
  23. Droz

    90 is the new 30

    So my latest idea/story. Feed back appreciated, please leave a comment in this thread Thanks __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Max Powers in 2020 is 90 years old. Born in 1930 he has seen the tail end of the horse and carriage used as transportation, he’s seen a global war, he’s seen a man on the moon, he watched as the internet took over the world and revolutionized everything. Max powers is also the world’s wealthiest person with an estimated net worth of 800 billion dollars. He is a father, grandfather and great grandfather. Max has lived a life most people could only dream of. Too young to join the military for World War II, he then served ten years in The Marine Corps right out of high school, ten years as a Marine at the start of the cold war, from 1948 to 1958. Stationed initially in Europe, then transferred to Japan and Korea. Shortly after retiring from The Marines, he used the contacts he made to start a new company selling products to the Military. From basic supplies to communication equipment. That business quickly flourished and led to Max investing in the burgeoning telecommunications industry. From there Max invested in new companies looking to cash in on The Space Race, aviation and the medical field. By 1975, Max Powers had reached the top ten list for wealthiest people. By 1985 he was at the top of the list and had amassed a fortune twice that of the next person on the list. From there he only grew richer, more influential, and more powerful in the business world. Max had married a beautiful woman while he was in The Marines, a longtime acquaintance from high school. They bumped into each other while Max was back home on leave. Max was shocked to see the young girl he knew in high school looking much like Jayne Mansfield, only taller, Suzie was a statuesque 5’10” and complemented Max’s 6’2” very well when she was in heels. They had four children together, two boys and two girls. Max earned enough money even early on, that his family had everything. Houses around the world, cars, the kids had toys, his wife Suzie had dresses and jewelry. His family wanted for nothing. Except their father and husband himself. Max travelled often and was usually away from home for weeks at a time. Suzie often argued with Max about his time away and always asked him to stay longer, spend time with her and the kids. Max simply said to her “I have too much work, I’ll make it up to you, I promise”. Max would lavish his family with gifts from around the world. Send them on vacations to exotic locations. But rarely spent more than two or three months time a year with his family. The time he did spend with them was precious and he did the best he could to “make things up” to them. In the end though, his kids never really knew their father, only that his business and money were more important to him. The love of his life, Suzie was a very lonely wife and mother. Yet she and Max remained faithful to each other for the 55 years they were married. She couldn’t really complain, she had a life most people could only dream of, Max was a good husband and father when he was around. Just, rarely present with his family. Suzie died in 2010 at the age of 80, Max was at her side, he too feeling the ravages of time, meant that he was home more and spent time with Suzi before she died. Now 90 years old, bound to a wheelchair, Max is weak, frail, and despite his sharp mind and mouth. He’s on Death’s door, his failing health, failing body, the end of his life is near. He’s spent the last six months looking for a new Executive Assistant. Yes, Max still works, as CEO and Chairman of Powers Inc. He still maintains control of his company and oversees the day to day. His last assistant, Pamela, had been his assistant for the last 45 years, faithful to him to the last. She died of natural causes at the age of 85, Max of course paid for everything for Pamela’s services. Gifted her family a generous amount of money and set aside ten million dollars in a trust fund for all of Pamela’s family members to use to send their children to college. Max needed a new assistant and spent as much time as he could interviewing candidate after candidate. Most of them only looking to work for him in the hopes that they would get to cash in on his death and have the prestige of having worked for him on their resume. While Max was resigned to his fate long ago, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to go out fighting. Max was looking for someone that was intelligent, educated and had the experience to work for a high powered CEO, help him manage his company and also work his schedule to keep up with Doctor appointments, his medical needs and anything else that might come up. Enter Denise. A 35 year old professional woman. All 5’4” 120 pounds and 34F-22-32 of her. Max took his time interviewing the young woman. Mostly due to his medical needs and having to stop and rest throughout the day. Over the course of two weeks, speaking with her a total of eight days. She had an impressive background. Finished high school at 16. Finished bachelor’s degrees in biology, chemistry and physics by 24 at UC Berkeley. She completed her master’s in business by 26 at Stanford university. She spent the last ten years working at various companies in various capacities for management and executive support. Max had his company’s investigative team verify her background. All of it checked out. All of her references gave her very positive comments and both universities confirmed her degrees and GPA to be very high. As a final test, Max had Denise sign an NDA and gave her full executive access to her company. He asked her to analyze all subsidiary companies and their intellectual property and report on any IP that has potential. Max gave her one week. A week later, Denise had a 300 page report written up for him. Detailing profits and losses for every division, every subsidiary. In those reports she detailed where money had gone and how different projects, patents and departments were performing in relation to the value of their work and/or products. During her research, Denise came across several projects and patents that would interest Mr. Powers. She made an outline for each, highlighted key points and had them in different colored folders for him to review. The most interesting projects she put on top of the pile of course. “Homosapiens Supremis” was the name of the project, summary described a method of genetic enhancement that no one had ever thought of. Even with Max’s limited knowledge of bio-tech, he could tell that this was something that just needed modern technology to succeed. The project was part of a military R&D with ideas that were ahead of their time having been conceived and explored in the 70’s and 80’s and forgotten about, due to them being from acquisition companies that had long buried them as being unviable. This showed how thorough and persistent Denise was. Not even Pamela, his last assistant managed to dig deep enough for these projects to surface. After spending a week going through things. He sent instruction to the head of his biotech group to start work immediately to resurrect the project and keep all access secured to a small team with their new quantum encryption technology. If what Max read in the report from Denise, all with all the preliminary work done decades ago. This could be a revolution in medical science. Max hired the brunette busty bombshell. He knew she was the one to be his right hand. Within six months, the head of bio-tech that Max contacted had given him an update that shocked him to his core. “Sir, we have a viable process for reversing aging. The information in the records from the original scientists is revolutionary. It turned what we know of genetics on it’s head and makes so many more things possible. Whoever he was, was a geneticist beyond compare. I would like to discuss with you the process for doing our first human trial on you, Sir.” The next day, Max has the scientist and his entire genetics team and their equipment flown to his house on Mercer Island. It was another month before they were ready to start the experimental process on Max. Denise of course was with her boss every step of the way. She was curious to see how he would change, given that she had clued him into this whole idea. Maybe he could be able to walk again and live a few more years. By the end of the first week, everyone was shocked to see the changes in Max. He looked 20 years younger. He was able to walk unassisted, his hair had grown back, he was stronger and had more energy. The team of scientists and doctors were all amazed at the results. Denise was especially shocked, she felt genuinely happy for Max. He was one of the world’s greatest men and deserved to be able to accomplish so much more. Max no longer needed his wheelchair, he could eat normal food again, he didn’t need dialysis anymore.He could use the toilet on his own again. By the end of the second week, Max had again lost another 20 years to his appearance. He was absolutely loving the changes happening to him. He was dancing, he was singing, his mind was racing with all that was now possible for him. He felt better than he looked, he never felt this way at 50. He had a full head of hair again. He could run! He didn’t even feel any pain in his joints like he did 40 years ago. His time in the Marine Corps was rough on his body. But now, he felt better than ever. By the end of the third week of Max undergoing the gene therapy process... Denise had walked in on Max in the bathroom. He stood there, looking like a God. His body was nothing but pure muscle. He stood there, looking at himself in the large floor to ceiling mirror of the bathroom. Tensing his arms, then his legs, his abs, his pecs. She could see his cock slowly growing larger and larger, he was getting turned on by his own size and muscles. What started as an almost comically tented pair of posing trunks, guessing that Max was in the 8 inch neighborhood in length and about soda can in diameter when she walked in on him. His cock was now easily double in length and looked to have the same diameter as a wine bottle. His balls were the size of grapefruit and she could see them slowly swelling larger. His posing trunks having been torn through and fallen to the floor. The head was a little wider than the shaft, it was rounded at the tip and flaring out wider at the bottom. The tip was nearly touching the bottom of his pecs, it throbbed visibly with his heartbeat. Denise stared at the most massive, magnificent and powerful looking cock. No porn star had a cock like this, not even with those ridiculous prosthetics. Max took hold of his cock in his left hand, Denise noticed that his fingers could not wrap all the way around it. Max started to stroke his cock slowly, from just under the head down to the base and back up. Did he not notice her at all? Denise stood there, unable to move. Watching her boss, who in the last week had turned into the biggest, most muscular bodybuilder she had ever seen. With a shockingly huge cock to go along with his jaw dropping muscularity. Just a month ago, Max was a 90 year old wheelchair bound man practically on Death’s door. She tried to move, but her legs wouldn’t respond, it was like they were locked in place. She tried to say something, but her lips wouldn’t open. All she could do was watch as Max stroked his huge cock and curled his right arm, flexing so hard she could see his arm tremble from the exertion. His bicep was simply massive. With her straight on angle looking at his raised arm, she could see the muscle on the upper half of his arm, bulge out forwards and backwards as it was commanded to flex. “So much fucking MUSCLE!” Max exclaimed “Never in my life had I ever imagined being a bodybuilder. Now I can see the appeal. GOD DAMN!!! I’M FUCKING HUGE! … THE MUSCLE! …..THE STRENGTH!” Max let go of his cock and lowered his arm. He did the best most muscular pose he could, having seen it done before. He leaned forward, put out his left leg for balance. Then he flexed, his whole body erupted as his muscles obeyed his will and erupted into life. His muscles doubled in size, striations and veins came to life, he looked like a pro bodybuilder only bigger, better, more powerful. Denise’s eyes bulged, her jaw dropped as she watched him flex. Max kept up the flex, he stared at himself in the mirror. His cock was throbbing harder and harder, pushing up against his pecs as he leaned over. He relaxed the flex for a few moments, then flexed even harder, he roared like a beast. His heart was pounding in his chest, his cock was pounding just as hard and became painfully hard. He pushed himself more and more, flexing every muscle as hard as he could. His cock exploded, it blasted out cum like a fire hose. The first powerful shot was several seconds long. Max was still bent over flexing, pumping his muscles. He came again, the shot again several seconds long. He grunted and roared again, holding his flex as hard as he could. Staring at himself in the mirror. His cum shots arcing into the air, going farther each time until they were hitting the mirror, nearly 8 feet away. He could feel his huge balls jump and contract powerfully. Each shot made his cock surge bigger and harder. He stood there for nearly five minutes, holding the flex and cumming harder than he had ever before in his life. He finally relaxed and stood up straight. He was breathing hard, he sounded like a racehorse during a race. His torso heaved up and down, in and out with every breath. He couldn’t see himself in the mirror anymore. It was dripping with his thick cum, the consistency was like cold honey and even the thinnest layer of it was nearly opaque on the glass. He looked down, seeing his cock was still fully erect and painfully hard. Then he turned his head and looked over at Denise and smiled. “Did you enjoy the show Denise? I do have you to thank for my…”, he stopped and looked down at himself, holding his arms out in front of him a little, giving them a slight curl and a hard flex “…for my…amazing recovery from all my ailments. I’ve never felt this good before in my life! Not even when I was a strapping young man in The Marines! HAHAHAHA!” Max laughed powerfully, clearly reveling in his new body. Denise just stared at him in abject awe and a tinge of fear. “M …Muh…Max…I…I….I mean…Mister Powers! You look…” she swallowed hard “…you look INCREDIBLE!” Denise could barely tear her eyes away from Max’s massive cock to look at his muscles. But as she slowly studied every bulge, striation, separation. All she could think about was pure power. Max is the wealthiest man in the world, runs a multi-billion dollar corporation and is now the most muscular man on earth. [To be continued]
  24. Muscle fog ogre’s gift Ch1 part three C by Big-Zargo Story C Blue Bulls Brew Marty’s Elixir was packed with patrons, making Daniel Moore somewhat happy. He was concerned when 6 girls didn’t show up for work today and he was angry when Sally mysteriously disappeared; but with the rest of his male staff he would be able to attend to everyone. Paul’s grandson was having his 21st birthday and Daniel owing him one, was happy to oblige his old friend. “Hey, Mr. Moore I have to go to the restroom, just number one Sir. Craig the beefy bouncer Said. “It’s all right, you can go. Nothing bad is going to happen while you’re in there but make it quick though.” Daniel the skinny bartender said, while smiling. “Wait a second I almost forgot have you seen Sally. She Came here Early but I don’t know why she would disappear, especially on a Friday night.” Daniel said with concern. “Yet that is strange.” Craig said while eyebrows narrowing in suspicion. “Something very bad must have come up. I think after my shift I’ll call her to see if she’s okay.” “Don’t worry about in two minutes I’ll have Jason take my place and make a phone call to her.” Daniel said. Walking past the bar’s countertop Craig headed towards the restroom, a few seconds later Kyle Shepard into the restroom as well and then the man of the hour Paul’s grandson Harry followed as well. The door fell with a crash on to the floor of the bar. All heads swiveling towards the sound of the door’s destruction. All peoples mouse dropping as they saw three extremely huge men. Couple seconds earlier “How do you like your birthday party. I know it isn’t as special now that your older Son; but you have to have fun for their sake.” Paul said to his grandson, with concern in his eyes. “Thanks grandpa.” Harry said with a dim smile on his face. “That’s the spirit boy. Marty’s elixir has a special drink for celebration. It will be your first taste of alcohol and I want it to be special for you since it was the 21st birthday.” Paul said. “Allen, David, and Frank can you guys move over, I have to go to the restroom, Harry said to his some of his rockets friends sitting next to him. Paul smiled at the sight of his grandson, making his way towards the restroom. This would be a good time for get Daniel to bring out the birthday cake and the Majestic Elixir for his grandson. Before could ask one of his grandsons’ friend to go over to Daniel about the cake and majestic elixir. They heard something crash on to the floor of Marty’s Elixir. Present time Three extremely huge hairy men have barged into the bar, with a wave of fog their feet. All in the bar are stun at the site of the huge men all that they were wearing were bowties. Terrence having a big smile at the site of the stunned humans. “It’s show time!” Terrence Yelled out, as he smacked his muscle gut. Terrence was given a light blue tie to complement his dark skin, while Christopher was given a cold green tie over his warm orange skin, while Kenneth was given warm red tie over his pale orange skin. “Let’s make these guys jealous!” Kenneth yelled out as he pounded his huge chest like a gorilla. The people in the bar did not recognize muscle beasts as the three young men who left the bar a couple minutes ago. “Let’s make some room for show.” Christopher said. None of them protested as two of the ogres moved a few tables and chairs. Before anyone could protest three ogres began posing and flexing in front of all the bar patrons with their show. So, transfixed by the muscle show none of the patrons did not notice two ogres coming into the bar and granting Daniel like a twig, and caring him to the employees’ room. “Are you guys ready!” Terrence yelled out. “Yes,” all the bars patrons say the bar patrons in unison. The magical fog flowing through the opening where the three flexing ogres, it caressing and warping Marty’s Elixir making every furniture, food, drink, and decoration disappear leaving the patrons on their feet. Their last grew every second of seeing the flexing ogres. Owen’s magical fog is spreading his influence among the bar patrons causing them to slowly jiz out their humanity. Hands having to reach for crotches because every man in the room cannot resist new or old sexual urges. “Come on Everybody move those hips like your fucking the air!” Kenneth yelled out. Starting with one and then another each man’s hips have started to back and forth. Each man’s cocks became erect, with Kenneth sexy words. Each man having to moan out their pleasure because they found their growing cocks and balls have been freed from the constraints of their pants. The Entire bar have been slowly changing with the inhabitants, what the interior growing taller and wider to fit the bur patrons’ new changes. Fat, or skinny, tall, or short, beefy, or feeble, average and all body types in between, all of the bar patrons grew with Ogreish muscles. Each bar patron’s hair grew wild in different shapes and sizes like, body hair, head hair, beards, mustaches, sideburns, 5 o’clock shadow’s, some even becoming bald. “Okay everyone let’s flex our legs!” Terrence yelled out. “Let’s flex our legs.” the bar patrons say in unison. All of the men’s Feet, Calves, Thighs, and Butts all grew with muscle in response of flexing their legs. All of their pants and shorts weren’t able to handle the growth of muscle and falling on to the floor in tatters. All three ogres have been smiling at the site, of people bursting their pants and shorts with their huge Ogreish legs. “Your guys legs looking fine.” Christopher said. The men were looking pretty weird with big Ogreish legs on scrawny human bodies, so the three flexing ogres in bowties just had to fix that. “Okay everyone let’s start flexing our chests!” Kenneth yelled out, as he began to flex his chest muscles. “Let’s start flexing our chests.” the bar patrons say in unison, as they began flexing their chest muscles. All of the men’s abs, and pecs all grew with muscle in response of flexing their chests. Their waists have widened as their chest expanded. All their shirts having joined their pants, sorts, undergarments, socks and shoes on the floor in tatters, as their clothes have been piling up. “That’s right keep flexing your chest. We’re going to make you guys into real sexy ogre.” Kenneth said. Their pecs were like huge pillows and abs were like big steel bumps, even on some of the changing men you could not see their ads because of their fat belly. Waves of primal energy have been bombarding the bars patrons adding pounds of Ogreish growth. Their minds and souls are changing to accept the Ogreish ways. “Let’s continue with our upper body with our arms!” Christopher yelled out. “Let’s continue with our arms.” The bar patrons say in unison, as he began flexing their arm muscles. All of the men’s hands, lower arms, biceps and shoulders grew with muscle in response of flexing their arms. Every men’s hands grew into huge mitts with sausage White fingers, their lower arms grew to compensate for their growing biceps which have grown the size of large bowling balls and find their shoulders grew into huge boulders. “You guys arms are looking good. Nice and thick, built like a brick.” Christopher said. The place was starting to smell less like a bunch of humans and more like a bunch of ogres, as the air was suffused with sweaty ogre musk; that came from the changing bar patrons. Terrence turned around and yelling out, “All right boys let’s finish up with flexing our backs!” "Let’s flex our backs.” The bar patrons say with a deep voice in unison, as they began flexing their back muscles. All of the men’s latissimus dorsi, teres, and trapezius grew in response of flexing their back muscles. Each man back grew until they have formed Wings with their back muscles, each man’s trapezius grew with their neck and tell it became indistinguishable. “All right everyone freestyle flexing.” All three flexing ogres in bowties said that once All of the men in the room were now too far gone in their transformation to turn back. “Damn you guys looking Fucking cut.” Kenneth said. The finalization of their Ogreish transformation was now starting to begin. All of the men noses have swelled, rounded and widen out, while their eyebrow ridges became more pronounce, there jaw have squared out and their canine became more sharper. They all gain brutal caveman facial features as their eyes slowly regaining focus. One by one each of the bar patrons have been grabbing their cocks and masturbating, each excepting the changes each wanting the changes each masturbating for it. Eventually the former humans came, shooting their humanity out through there fat Ogreish cocks. The Magical fog eight up all of the cum filled with humanity, leaving the ogres and the changing building clean from human cum. Marty’s elixir’s Restroom Blinking at the same time all Three occupants of Marty’s elixir’s restroom, they all felt like they woke up from a dream. “Man, it felt like, we were pissing here for hours.” Kyle said while peeing in the urinal. Me to, Kyle. It feels like hours have pass. Well I got to get back to work, Kyle. The night isn’t getting any younger. Craig said while drying off his hands. Walking towards the door Craig said to the passing Harry. “Happy birthday kid. Marty’s special elixir is well worth it.” Smiling back at Craig, Harry walked towards the urinal, Kyle said. “It’s your birthday?” “Yeah, it’s my 21st.” Harry said shyly. “Well that’s nice. May the rest of your birthday night be fun. I think I’m going to take a beer to go. I feel so tired, so I’m just going to head home.” Kyle said while washing his hands. “Don’t drink too much, hangovers are a pain.” Kyle said goodbye to Harry as he left the restroom, soon after Harry zipped up his pants, washed and dried his hands and left the restroom. Craig Soon after leaving the restroom Craig notice that something was different about the building. He did not remember the restroom door being on the right he remembered it facing toward the front of the bar, and there was never a hallway especially a large. Looking to his right he notice a wall made of fog, and when he looked to the left discovered a giant door with a just as huge lock on, the whole thing must have been twice the size of a regular door. At a closer examination Craig discovered that the giant door was slightly open. Deciding that the walls fog was too bizarre, Craig began walking towards the giant door. When he passed through the giant door, he noticed that the room was filled with racks of huge beer barrels. Craig did not remember ever seeing this room in Marty’s elixir, he remembered seeing the storage room where they kept their alcoholic beverages, but this room was different somehow. Walking in deeper into the room he noticed a logo on one of the huge barrels: The Blue Bulls Brew. Craig heard the giant door closing shot. “There is our bouncer.” said a deep familiar voice. Turning his head around, Craig saw an extremely huge man wearing, a cowboy hat with bull horns, a blue and white polka dot vest, a blue tie, a white sleeve up shirt, blue pleated pants, big black leather shoes. He also had, blonde hair, familiar blue eyes, a strong jaw, a round, a beard like a lion’s mane, hairy arm, and he so pack with muscles that Craig could see it through his clothes. The huge muscle beasts’ eyes were familiar to Craig, but the fierce site of this beast made him pause. “Now Craig, you cannot be wearing those clothes. You have to wear company uniform of the Blue Bulls Brew.” The muscle beasts said while chastising at Craig. “I, I, I, I, don’t work for the Blue Bulls Brew. I work for Marty’s Elixir.” Craig said in a staggering and fearful tone. “Craig, Craig, Craig, Craig,” the muscle beasts said, while moving his head right and left and right and left. “Marty’s Elixir is no more thinks to the power of Lord Owen it has been reborn into the Blue Bulls Brew. Lord Owen power has remade me into a big strong sexy ogre. The bar you know as Marty’s Elixir is dead, the man you know as Daniel M. Moore is dead. He has….” The ogre said before being interrupted. Hearing that Daniel was dead, Craig went to a frenzy. “I’ll kill you,” Craig yelled out. Craig ran towards the huge ogre with the cowboy hat with bloodlust. “Really Craig.” the ogre with the cowboy hat said, in exasperation. Grabbing Craig by his face, with his huge Ogreish Hand, the ogre gave a vicious smirk. Making a whistling with his thick lips, while holding Craig’s face. The ogre with the cowboy hat said. “Come on boys this one’s going to be trouble.” Two ogres have walked in from inside passage. Each wearing blue short shorts, blue and white shoes, blue T-shirt with white trimmings, blue and white cow pattern vast, a blue and white polka dot tie, and a blue Bulls hat with small white horns. The two ogres have grabbed at Craig’s flailing arms. Grabbing a Blue Bulls’ hat from the rack the ogre with the cowboy hat said. “Where was I again. oh yeah. The human you know as Daniel has been reborn or I should say I have been reborn.” It took a few minutes for Daniel’s words to sink in Craig’s head. Stopping his flailing Craig said, with a Blanche face. “No, no way, you can’t be Daniel. Daniel is a skinny, short bartender you, you, your, this huge muscle monster how can you possibly be Daniel.” “As I said I was reborn by the power of Lord Owen, and now you will be reborn as well. Seamer, and Charlie, stripped him up in clothes.” Daniel ordered. Craig found his clothes being ripped off of him like wrapping paper on a Christmas present. What laid before the Ogreish Daniel, was a naked Craig whose pale skin glinted against the light. With your body already beefy you will make a fine ogre. You just need the companies hat and maybe a few accessories. Daniel said, while licking his lips in anticipation. Renewing his struggles Craig have attempted to get loose from the two ogres that have been holding his arm. “Stop struggling,” Daniel said. Then Craig felt Daniel’s hand covering his face as he had slipped a Blue Bulls’ hat on to Craig’s head. At first Craig felt nothing coming from the hat. “Oops I forgot about the ring.” Daniel said. Grabbing a golden nose ring from his pocket, Daniel readjusted his grip on Craig’s face and slipped it on to his nose. “That’s much better.” Daniel said, while smiling and moving from Craig. “Let him go boys. The Blue Bulls’ bouncer is going to meet some space to grow.” Two ogres let go Craig’s body as it began to shake. “No, No, No, No, ooh aww, Craig said, before mounted out.” Craig’s body have exploded with growing muscle, with it Growing wider and taller Craig felt primal power flow out through his changing body. Craig felt his humanity concentrate into his growing cock and balls. “I must not.” Craig said, in sexual pleasure. He felt so much pleasure his cock, that trying to resist coming was an exercise in futility. “I feel so god damn horny.” Craig said moaned out. Eventually he came, roaring as his huge fat 10-inch cock shot out the last of his humanity and humans cum. “I think he turned out right.” Daniel said. Standing before the three ogres, was Craig a 11-foot-tall ogre with huge bulging muscles, red hair peppering body, a long beard and hair, huge orange size hairy balls, a thick pale orange skin and the usual Ogreish facial features. “Damn, I fucking feel fantastic, Lord Owen has true blessed us all. Now Daniel wears the blue Bulls special Harry something special a drink for his 21st birthday.” Craig said, with a smile. Kyle Leaving the restroom Kyle wasn’t expecting to end up in a foggy back alley. It was surprisingly well lit, but he really couldn’t see passed the fog. Deciding that this was weird he tried heading back to the restroom door, only to find it missing. “Kyle Shepard.” A deep sexy voice said behind Kyle’s back. For some reason Kyle’s cock became erect, as he slowly turned around. “My god.” Kyle said in stunned shock. Standing before Kyle was a huge fog covered monster with glowing eyes. “Who, Who, Who, or what are you?” Kyle said in awe and fear. “I am the enforcer, the left-hand for Lord Owen. I have come for the one called Kyle Shepard. Are you him?” The enforcers said. Every word coming from the enforcers mouth made Kyle more and more horny. “Yeah I’m Kyle Shepard.” He said in a horny stupor. “Then come with me Lord Owen speak with you.” Said the enforcer. Kyle began following the enforcer. Harry Opening the door Harry was not expecting to see the bar changed and filled with huge hairy people. It was if he was a small child in a restaurant filled adults. Harry’s mine was having a hard time comprehending the site. The bars sudden changes of themes boggle the mind, he must’ve in the restroom for about two to five minutes give or take. How could it possible for the bar to change it seemed so quickly and what happened to all patron. All Harry could see were the huge hairy muscle men, they must’ve been around 10 feet tall at the most, some were wearing T-shirts, tank tops, vests, kilts, shorts, thongs, pants and loincloths, while some were bare chested, and others were practically naked or actually naked. Then he saw the plaque on the wall it said, Blue Bulls Brew. Harry began hyperventilating, his mind not able to understand what was going on, and before he knew it, he fainted. Harry woke up to the sound of the happy birthday song. “What’s going on.” Harry said groggily. Harry had discovered that he was sitting and that he was surrounded by six huge hairy muscle men. One man had a golden beard like a lion’s mane and was wearing nice suit with a blue and white polka dot tie, caring a huge birthday cake with number 2 and 1 shaped candles. All six men looked familiar to him for some reason like he sees them before. They were to on his left, three on his right and the one placing the cake down in the front the table circle. The two on the left were familiar reminding him of Allen, David and the two on right reminding them of Frank and Jane. The file one on his right and the closest to him reminded him of his grandfather Paul, but he was average size, having mostly a white with sprinkling of black and starting to slouch, this person next to was huge rippling with muscle, black hair that was peppered with flakes of gray , have much darker complexion of Brown skin and a round nose. In fact they all had a round, now that he was looking closely. Harry wanted to pinch himself, to check if he was in a dream. But when the huge dark skin man patted his shoulders, Harry knew that he wasn’t dreaming, instead he was in a living nightmare. All the huge men around his table were now done singing their birthday song and were now looking at him expecting. “Come on boy blow out those candles and make you wish.” huge dark skin the man said, gaily. Harry having been encouraged by the other men at the table blew out the two candles on the cake. They all of the huge men have clapped and cheered at the site of Harry blowing out the candles. Please by his action harry having been given a huge knife and guided by the huge dark-skinned man. “Birthday boy gets the biggest piece.” Said the huge dark-skinned man. Harry had ended up cutting a large piece of the birthday cake. Harry’s large piece of cake was like the size of a small watermelon, making him gulp with nervousness. The huge hulking men dove into feasting upon the huge pieces of birthday cake. “What’s wrong harry? you’re not eating your birthday cake.” The huge dark-skinned man said with concern. “I’m not really hungry.” Harry said sheepishly. “That’s no problem, it just means your thirsty, and now that your 21. You can have the Blue Bulls special elixir the Belgian Blues Might.” The huge dark-skinned man said with glee. Moving his plate inside the huge dark-skinned man grabbed a huge barrel shaped mug it was a least a 15th inches tall with a long straw attached to the top of it. Before Harry could no to the strange drink the huge dark-skinned man placed the straw into Harry’s mouth and the other huge man beside him pinched his nose preventing him from breathing. “I won’t let your nose go and tell half of your Belgian blues might is gone.” The other huge man said with a malicious smile. With no choice harry began to drink the Belgian Blues Might. The taste of the Belgian Blue Might was so tasty that harry gobbled it down. “That’s a good boy.” The huge dark-skinned man The ogre’s sitting Harry’s table watch the man of the hour become the ogre of the hour. “Keep going Harry!” Yelled out the Ogreish Frank. With no one no longer holding his nose and his straw, harry greedily slurped at the Belgian Blues Might, as he began to change. While this whole time Harry was sitting at the table, he didn’t know is that he was naked, the ogres secretly watched him carefully and now their observations were paying off. Before their eyes Harry’s average body started to become more defined. A chest that was hairless began growing black curly hair. A once smooth face grew a 5 o’clock shadow, as his once baby like face became more masculine and brutish. His now flat hairy belly began growing abs. His once skinny arms and legs grew with muscle. Harry’s body swelled and swelled ballooning out as he grew in size. His once warm brown skin became more darker with every growth of his swelling muscles. When his once average body reach heavyweight bodybuilder levels, the Ogreish growth spurt kicked in. His already huge body swelled out even further growing taller and wider. Eventually Harry had fully grown, reaching 10 feet in height. The one last muscle growth spurt Harry came shooting the last of his humanity through his fat foot long cock. Harry was now a heavy muscular ogre with huge meaty pecs, bowling balls size biceps, tree trunk like thighs, a nice six pack abs, orange size balls, Boulder like shoulders, a nice bubble butt, a peppering of black curly hair over his body, a thick beard and mustache, shaved head, a round nose and caveman like facial features. Harry took a big belch before grabbing his plate with the birthday cake and scuffing it down. The bar named Marty’s elixir and it’s human occupants was now smothered by Owen’s muscle fog and reborn as the blue Bulls brew, and the occupant are now huge muscular ogres. With all the magic Samuel commanded he thought he could protect his wife, but he was wrong. Now the entity named Owen has been unleashed upon Holmes top Borough. It somehow took every woman and child from the town, only leaving the men behind. The order of the ark green was tasked to protect the world from the evil of Owen. With Mrs. parsley dead and her key gone Owen should be able to manifest in a physical form, but this this disappearance of so many people could only mean that the fifth key to Owens prison was found in the was used to help Owens escape. Dammit parsley you should retired or gotten an apprentice not gotten yourself killed. I have one last stop to make before I reconvene with my order.
  25. Muscle fog ogre’s gift Ch1 part three B by Big-Zargo Story B Muscle Blast Terrence and his friends were walking out the sports bar called Marty’s Elixir. Terrence being the designated driver was sober while his friend Christopher and Kenneth were drunk off their ass. “Come on you two, let’s go. This Friday night is almost over. We have to head back to school by Monday.” Terrence said, well dragging his two drunken friends. “Come on Terrence, it will only take us about six hours to drive back to our dorms. And we have …. hiccup sound… two more days.” Christopher Said, in a drunken stupor. “You Promise your girlfriend Carla that you would pick her up on Saturday evening, from her parents. And you made me promise to help you with your promise to her. I’m helping you do that by making sure you hit the hay and not stay up all night drinking and tell you pass out in the morning.” Terrence said. “He’s right you know if you don’t pick her up… Hiccup sound…. She will dump your ass. You have too many broken promises to afford one more…. Belching sound… and although she understands you are not perfect… Hiccup sound…. She is willing to give you one more chance to change yourself…. Hiccup sound… Like you promise her that you would.” Kenneth said, drunkenly. “With the always this foggy, I.I.I can barely see. I don’t remember it being foggy when we entered the b,b,b, bar.” Christopher said. “You’re right Christopher, it is strange”. Terrence said. “Hey what’s that blue light.” Christopher said before he got hit by it. Falling to the ground by the force of the blue light. As Terrence and Kenneth said, “What the hell.” at the same time.” Terrence realized that Christopher was literally blasted off his feet and that Terrence’s hand was completely empty where he was holding Christopher’s wrist. Looking down at Christopher they notice that his body was starting to shake, like he was vibrating. Right in front of Terrence’s and Kenneth’s eyes, Christopher grew like the incredible hulk. First his clothes having started out by tightening before stretching, showing off his growing body. before their eyes Christopher’s clothes that have been already stretched to their limits and now begun their process of ripping and tearing into pieces. Huge beefy pecs grew and grew as hair began popping up all over his body. Arms and legs quickly grew larger than a human’s head, and feet that grew twice as long as wide, completely bursting his shoes and shedding his socks. “What the fuck!” Kenneth yelled out. Christopher’s shredded clothes falling to the ground revealing his new huge muscular body. With his new huge 10-inch-long cock, he shot his load of cum into the night moaning while he did so. Christopher was now a huge muscular giant. He must have been around 10 feet tall by Terrence estimation. His once chubby arms and legs were now jacked up with huge muscle. He was wide as he was tall, and with those shoulders and a waste twice as wider than a human. It seemed that most of his fat must the move towards his belly and pecs. his big belly did not sag but was firm, for He must have a tight muscle gut underneath that layer of fat that covers his belly. His pecs did not sag either, but they look plump and somehow his thick skin was oranges it was hard to tell the dark. Is normally shaved to face now had short beard on and his hair was more spiker. With facial features like a brute and hair peppering his muscular body he was rocking the giant caveman look. Christopher sat up from the ground, blinking before yawning revealing his new huge sharp canines. Now noticing his friend Cameron gave a smile before doing a double bicep pose. “Do you guys like what you see. I am fucking huge, and I feel fucking amazing to. Come on Kenneth feel my fucking bicep there just so fucking huge. Come on Terrence don’t be shy I have to arms so there’s plenty of me to go around.” Christopher said jovially. Kenneth being drunk, curious, and just disbelieving placed his outstretched right hand on to Christopher’s huge bicep. “Feels so hard and warn, man.” Kenneth said, in wonder. Kenneth back off from the huge Christopher and said. “Why do I feel so warm, all the sudden?” As his body began to shake. Like Christopher, Kenneth’s body grew with muscle and with no chance of holding on against his body grew, Kenneth’s clothes tightening and then tearing before bursting off of his growing body. In no time Kenneth’s shredded clothes fell on to the ground and before Terrence’s eyes can flat belly grew a pair of six-pack abs and his cock became erect as it grew fat and long. Roaring as he came, he shot his on to Christopher’s hairy chest. “That looks delicious.” Christopher said. Using one of his Fingers as a spin Christopher licked at Kenneth’s cum, like a man tasting ice cream. What the fuck. Terrence said in discuss. Never seeing a disgusting gay act like that before. Terrence refocused on Kenneth. Kenneth was now a huge 10 feet tall giant like Christopher. Now twice as large as the biggest human man Kenneth and Christopher towered over Terrence with height and muscle. Kenneth once skinny body was now beef up like Christopher’s body, with huge muscular arms and legs a thick 9-inch cock with orange size balls, a nice set of six pack abs. Kenneth was also sharing the caveman look Christopher, with a long black beard reaching his hairy huge beefy pecs and with surprisingly similar facial features they could pass for two hairy brothers. “Wow this is fucking amazing.” Kenneth said, while flexing his huge muscular body. Grabbing Christopher’s arm and lifting him off the ground, Kenneth gave a toothy grin, at his immense strength. “I’m all for you guys getting some exercise but this is ridiculous. Christopher how going to explain this to Carla let alone your parents .” Terrence said, with a concerned voice. “I don’t know who this Carla you are talking about, but all I care about are my two brothers, you and Kenneth. We’re going to show those puny humans in the bar are big sexy muscles.” Christopher said. “We’re going to watch them puny human transform into big strong sexy ogres. Then we are going to drink and fuck all night before heading to my dad’s house and if he’s not big strong sexy by the time we get back, I’ll stuff fat cock in his pale white ass, before heading to bed.” Kenneth said. “That isn’t you speaking. It’s whoever or whatever turned you into that that musclebound monster. You guys aren’t gay. You guys aren’t this sex and muscle crazed monster. We just need to take you guys to the hospital, we just……..” Terrence said as his mind fell upon a blank. Terrence’s body began to shake. Like Christopher and Kenneth, Terrence’s body grew with muscles, and size. Feeling his bones go hot and cold, hot, and cold as they grew to compensate his growing body. Trying to resist this foreign influence with the last of his lingering will, Terrence’s felt his cock grow and swell as it became the erect. Terrence felt his humanity leak out of his throbbing hard cock as well as the air of the night on his naked body. His clothes already in tatters and on the ground, his muscles already huge and his humanity almost gone. Eventually like the others he came, shooting his cum and the last of his humanity onto the ground. “Damn look quite sexy Terrence.” Christopher said “don’t I know it.” Terrence said, while flexing huge hairy pecs. Terrence was now an ogre like his two friends; 10 feet tall, rippling with muscles, a firm muscle gut more defined than Christopher’s, black curly hair peppering body, a bushy beard, a fat foot-long cock, with orange size hairy balls, dark brown skin, and surprisingly he kept his short haircut. “Can you feel Owen’s blessing?” Christopher said to Terrence. “I can feel it Christopher. Can you Kenneth?” Terrence said. “Hell, yeah I can.” Kenneth said. The other two ogres began to flex showing off their muscles, with Terrence. Each of their cocks re-hardened as they became more aroused at the site of their muscles. Eventually they stopped flexing their muscles to begin masturbating. All three ogres rubbed at their hard-fat cocks with their big muscular hands. “So how are we going to transform all those humans into ogres.” Terrence said “I think we should just bust down the door and just start fucking all those people.” Kenneth said “Don’t be daft, Kenneth. Some of the humans might be able to getaway and I don’t want to chase them down.” Christopher said. “Maybe we should just wait outside the door and take turns as we grabbed the humans one by one.” Terrence said. “yeah but if you do that the humans might scream or moan to loudly giving us away. Plus, how are we going to hide are big sexy bodies from the front windows we would probably be too close to the windows to hide in the fog.” Kenneth said. “What I want to do is just go inside and start flexing my huge muscles. I want to see them drool at the site of my meat. I want them to start begging me for my fat cock.” Christopher said. “Damn that’s making thirsty. Kenneth said. “Know what guys all three plans are really sexy maybe we can just a little bit of all three of them. Christopher barge in and get their attention, then you Kenneth headed towards the back blocking off the exit and having a way that one of them. I’ll stay out here and grab any stragglers that attempt to leave Christopher’s show.” Terrence said. “Damn that sexy.” Christopher said. All three ogres started picking up their pace as they imagine the humans transforming into ogres. The three ogres came all at once. Each ogre roaring as their load came out of their fat cocks. “That that was fucking amazing.” Terrence said, in his afterglow of his orgasm. “I think I could do this all night.” Christopher said, while panting. “Damn my ass is starting to itch. I think I need one of you guys the stuff your fat cock in it.” Kenneth said, hungrily. “I’m am thirsty you guys; you want to go back in the bar and get a few drinks?” Christopher asked. “That was a good show you guy. Here have a drink, it’s on. You guys are going to need it.” Said a mysterious voice. All three ogres turned around to see five other ogres. One was wearing a barbarian like armor, a 5 o’clock shadow with a big thick mustache and long brown hair reaching his shoulders. The other one had black wild hair beard and, on his head, a retirement muscle gut, oranges brown skin, and a tattoo. Another one had a wild black shaggy hair, a mustache complemented with a 5 o’clock shadow and sharp gray eyes. Another one had pepper hair all over his body, a wild beard, and wild shorthair. The final one was just hairy. All sharing the square jaw rounded no pronounce eyebrow ridge and all sharing the caveman look like Terrence and his friends. The ogre wearing a barbarian armor gave the three sweating ogres 3 huge gallon of bottled water. “My name is Jackson, a mighty guardian and warrior of Lord Owen.” said the armored ogre. "And I love your muscle show and Lord Owen as well." The three ogres smile with pride. “Here take the three bowties, a gift from our Lord. With these three magical bowties all the humans in the bar will not be able to resist you guys and all those who see your guys show will be blessed by Lord Owen’s gift. Besides,” Jackson points to the ogre with the tattoo. “He needs to go inside and speak with the bartender and the owner if he is around.” Jackson said. The Three ogres pick their colors bowties and nodded their heads in thanks, before heading to Marty’s elixir for their big show.
  • Create New...

Important Information

By using this site, you agree to our Guidelines, Terms of Use, & Privacy Policy.
We have placed cookies on your device to help make this website better. You can adjust your cookie settings, otherwise we'll assume you're okay to continue..